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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27696833">Much Ado About Magic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mariadoria/pseuds/Mariadoria'>Mariadoria</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Anxiety, Asgardian Magic (Marvel), Depression, F/M, Found Family, Friendship, Healing, Hurt Hermione Granger, Hurt/Comfort, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki Misses Hermione, Mostly Gen, Mugging, Outer Space, Panic Attacks, Protective Loki (Marvel), Psychological Trauma, Relationship Issues, Slow Build, Space Vigilantes, Timeskip</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 03:20:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>91,375</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27696833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mariadoria/pseuds/Mariadoria</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>To Hermione, Loki held the secrets to uncovering the universe. To Loki, Hermione was his only true friend. Their friendship was forged in fire, but not everything is as sunny as it seems. Smiles cover splinters, laughter covers lies. And deep down, something lurks, threatening to ruin everything that has been built over so many years. </p><p>That is, if it can catch them.</p><p>+++</p><p>(Story updates on the first of each month, tags will update as the story continues)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger &amp; Loki (Marvel), Hermione Granger/Loki (Marvel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Ready, Set, Go!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>1989</strong>
</p>
<p>Dappled sunlight filtered through the autumn leaves of an oak tree, streaming through the large windows of the local library and onto a small girl with frizzy brown hair.</p>
<p>This girl, Hermione Granger, took absolutely no notice of the spectacular light show, instead deciding to focus intently on the lined book she was frantically writing in. Despite the speed of her writing, the letters and words on the page were impossibly neat, all evenly spaced and sized. Whatever she was writing was often a topic of interest for the local librarians.</p>
<p>Currently, she was working on a school project on Norse mythology. At least ten books were opened around her, crowding the table that was usually meant for four people. Pictures of eight-legged horses and a golden-haired man with a hammer stared up her, along with the minute text that accompanied them. These pictures happened to be obscenely large. If publishing houses were going to put pictures in books, the least they could do was size them down, so they didn't take up so much space on the page. Then, more information could fill up the now vacant space.</p>
<p>Hermione was a studious girl, believing in authority and facts. Everything came back to facts and rules, no matter how outlandish that subject matter. There was always a grain of truth to something. Except for maybe Norse mythology. These books, these insufferable books (and it took so, so much to make her call books insufferable), each presented different sides to the story. These myths, these legends, were clearly so flexible that the authors saw fit to only put down the facts they thought were correct.</p>
<p>One of her ways of working was to cross-reference her material, the outcome of which was a well-rounded story.</p>
<p>Not in this case. This time, the details of specific myths fluctuated so much, were so mangled by the passage of time, that it was impossible to create a consistent narrative. To say that she was frustrated was a gross understatement. A bubbling, spitting, hissing volcano was active under her skin, hot and infuriated. The assignment wasn't feasible. Sure, to others it may be. To others, it may be acceptable to turn in a project that was half-finished, turn in a project that would receive half the mark it could have received. To her, that was a scenario that haunted her worst dreams.</p>
<p>So, instead of writing her assignment, she was penning a serious note to her teacher, about considering redoing the parameters of the assignment. She may only be nine years old, but that didn't mean she was going to hold back her displeasure at the muddiness of it. This just wasn't acceptable.</p>
<p>Angrily, she signed her name at the bottom of the page. Her signature was simple, precise and easily legible. It didn't need to be anything more. With jerky movements, she folded the letter, making sure the folds were sharp, before placing it into an envelope. There. If that didn't change the teacher's mind, she didn't know what would.</p>
<p>Now, all she needed to do was put the books back on the shelf and begin work on one of her other projects. A maths one. The thought maths cheered her up immensely. Maths was reliable. Numbers didn't jump all over the place and have different meanings for everything. All the equations stayed the same, all the time. There was no need to guess what the actual story was, and that was why a smile began to spread over her face.</p>
<p>Just as she gently closed the last book (no matter how much the subject frustrated her, she wasn't going to resort to slamming books shut) a man sat down opposite her. Hermione glanced up, eyes narrowing. She was obviously in a huff, she didn't need to talk to anyone. Not right now.</p>
<p>The man didn't seem to care, not if his languid, relaxed body language was anything to go by. Add to that the arrogant tilt of his chin, and he looked like he owned the library. Hermione knew that he didn't, but it was easy to get that impression. It was probably what happened wherever he went.</p>
<p>That didn't matter. There were plenty of other tables for him to sit at. She was in a huff. People stayed away from her when she was in a huff, so this was no different.</p>
<p>"What do you want?" She asked, stacking the books into a teetering pile. "Can't you see I'm busy?" She peered around the books, noticing that his eyes were alight with a vivid flame. Could it be the same type of cruel mischief she saw in those immature boys at school? No, this flame was lighter, more mirthful.</p>
<p>"All the other tables are full. And as you're the only one here, I figured that I would take a seat." His hair, if it were not slicked back with copious amounts of grease, would have fallen just beneath his ears. Hermione also took note of how his clothes were...strange, to say in the least. She didn't know anyone who would go out wearing a green and gold leather costume. Laughter bubbled up in her throat, though she stoppered it before it burst out.</p>
<p>"No, many tables are available. So please go and sit at one of them. I'm busy." She stood, using her chin to stabilise the books. It made her feel remarkably like Gus from Cinderella when he was squirrelling away the chicken feed.</p>
<p>As she made her way over to the non-fiction shelves, back to where she retrieved the books from in the first place, her eyes glanced around and, to her surprise, all the tables were full. The man, curious expression on his face, stood and followed her. "Could you just leave me alone?"</p>
<p>The words came out as a garbled mess. The man raised an eyebrow.</p>
<p>"I beg your pardon?"</p>
<p>Hermione didn't say anything, just glared at him. Once she reached the shelf, she awkwardly placed down the books and began sliding them back onto their levels. The man bent down and began helping her. Not before he flipped open the book to a page with a large picture of Thor on it. His hammer was held to the sky, lightening ricocheting off of it. A smirk covered his face as he muttered something she couldn't hear.</p>
<p>"These books are extremely inaccurate, you know," he said, slightly louder. "Thor is more of a grown-up child than a great leader. The authors of these books need a good talking to, I think."</p>
<p>"That's exactly what I was thinking! There is such a disparity between the books that I am beginning to question Norse mythology altogether." She frowned slightly, halting her tirade. "What do you care? And who says that your knowledge is better than what is in the books? You'll just be adding another facet of information for me to get frustrated at."</p>
<p>"Someone's in a bad mood." The man chuckled. "Trust me, my information is true. There is probably no one better to help you with your...assignment." He seemed to be testing the words on his tongue like they were completely and utterly foreign to him. His body language also betrayed an unfamiliar discomfort. He didn't feel like the type of person to help a nine-year-old girl with her assignment. So why was he helping her?</p>
<p>The questions ran rampant through Hermione's head. She was considering every side of the situation. True, it would be another source of information, which is the last thing she wanted right now. But, if the man (she really needed to ask him for his name) was telling the truth, then her assignment could be the things of dreams. Just the thought of getting the best mark possible on her project made her salivate. So, in the end, she gave in, deciding to listen to what the man had to say.</p>
<p>"Yes, I may be in a bad mood, but at least I know I am. And yes, I'll listen to you talk. You'll have to be quick, though. My parents are coming to pick me up in half an hour."</p>
<p>"I assure you, that is an adequate amount of time."</p>
<p>"Well, chop-chop! Get to it!" She flapped her hands at him, scooting past and sliding back into her chair. Incredibly quickly, she pulled her notebook out, along with a pencil. The man hadn't moved. His eyes were wide, mouth opened slightly. Obviously, he wasn't used to being bossed around by a nine-year-old. Unfortunately for him, Hermione thought, he was going to have to get used to it. There was no time to lose. "Hurry up, I'm waiting here."</p>
<p>"You've got the bossing people around thing down, haven't you?" The man smirked.</p>
<p>Again.</p>
<p>Hermione could already see that it was his trademark expression, just like her own was crinkling her nose in distaste. Or so she was told.</p>
<p>"Yes, I have, and I'm quite proud of it." She twiddled the pencil in her hand, waiting impatiently for him to sit down. Once he did, taking his black coat off with an impossible amount of grace, she began her questioning. "Right, before we start, I need to know your name. I can't keep referring to you as 'the man,' that's just rude. Then, we'll get onto your credentials and you sharing what you deign to be the best information that is relevant to my assignment."</p>
<p>"My name is Loki."</p>
<p>"I'm being serious."</p>
<p>"So am I. My name is Loki Odinson. Both of my parents, you could say, are major Norse mythology enthusiasts. As is my brother," he grimaced, "Thor. I grew up surrounded by legends and myths. Honestly, at times, it is completely exhausting, you wouldn't know how exhausting Thor can be. He certainly lives up to his namesake. If he were an animal, he would be a rooster. All loud and obnoxious."</p>
<p>"As much as I would like to hear about your family troubles, can we please get onto my assignment? Time is ticking." She mimed a watch, tapping her wrist and scowling at Loki. The name was so ridiculous that she was unsure if she believed him. Right now, there was no time to worry about the authenticity of his name, for there was a chance that she could turn in an assignment that would get her top marks.</p>
<p>Top marks were always worth it.</p>
<p>"By all means."</p>
<p>"Okay, first things first. The assignment is meant to focus on the Odinson family tree. I personally think that this particular brief is extremely boring, there is barely anything you can do with it past making a colourful chart. In my opinion, charts are meant for presenting statistics, not flashy, half baked class assignments. I, instead, am writing a comprehensive essay, given that the teacher didn't specify how we were to present it. I always prefer to present information in a logical fashion.</p>
<p>"Now, the questions I want to ask you, given that those books each provided a different opinion, which is utterly useless to me at this time. For the assignment, I want to do a detailed profile of each member's personality. I feel that this will give my assignment an edge above the others. Of course, I am also going to be doing a diagram, to demonstrate the family tree. The essay portion is where I will be going into personalities and history."</p>
<p>"Quite the ambitious little thing, aren't you?"</p>
<p>"And you better believe it. I'm not going to get anywhere without ambition and motivation. I've seen what lacking it can do to people, and it isn't pleasant. My uncle is in a place that I am not going to get into. Now, information." She clicked her fingers, pencil poised to put down perfect prose. "I think we should start with Odin."</p>
<p>Loki's face hardened slightly. Suspicion began whispering in the back of her mind, reminding her terribly of whenever she thought a teacher was letting a student off without just reason. "Odin is a formidable man. He is older than old, older than dirt in fact, and always puts the needs of Asgard above the needs of his own family. He doesn't hesitate to take action when he deems it necessary, never taking advice from anyone else…."</p>
<p>And so, for the next half hour, the unlikely pair continued talking. As the rest of the library began to empty, Hermione and Loki stayed sequestered away in their little nook, talking at a volume acceptable for the library. Hermione's hand never stopped writing, moving at incredible speeds. Ten minutes into the task it began cramping, but she didn't let that stop her. This information was priceless.</p>
<p>They finished just as Hermione's mother arrived to pick her up. She thanked Loki profusely, clutching the many pages of notes to her chest. As she turned to leave, Loki smiled at her retreating form, stepping behind a bookshelf.</p><hr/>
<p>The girl was sweet, he would give her that. She did grate on his nerves a little bit, which was a given for anyone as bossy and...sniffy as her. Still, the opportunity to vent about his family was freeing, even if Hermione Granger just thought that they were legends.</p>
<p>To add to his curiosity about the small girl, he had sensed the energy around her, remarkably similar to his own. It was that which drew him there in the first place. He'd been walking past the library, calming down from a particularly vicious spat with his idiotic brother. This one was so large that realms were needed to separate seas of simmering anger.</p>
<p>The day had turned out rather cathartic. Perhaps one day he would find the bossy little girl again and learn more about her. For now, he needed to get back to Asgard before his absence became noticed.</p>
<p>Without a thought, he disappeared in a flash of green light. The poor librarian would forever wonder what the mysterious flash was, carrying it with her for the rest of her days.</p><hr/>
<p>"Miss Granger, could I see you for a minute?"</p>
<p>Hermione anxiously gathered up her books, depositing them in her backpack. She rushed to the front of the classroom, knee jigging up and down, ignoring the intrigued whispers of her classmates as they filed out of the classroom. 'Oh, is Hermione in trouble?' Yeah, that was what they all wished for, wasn't it? For the indomitable Hermione Granger to make a mistake. For her to become fallible. Wouldn't that just spur the rumour mill onwards?</p>
<p>She sincerely hoped not. It would certainly be a first.</p>
<p>"Yes, Miss Mitterand?"</p>
<p>The newly named Miss Mitterand handed Hermione back a piece of paper. "I just wanted to tell you that your assignment on Norse mythology is exceptional. I especially loved how you wrote it like the information was coming from the perspective of a family member. It made it more personal, which is something fresh. Lord knows that I needed something new to grade." She ran her fingers through long, brown hair. "Anyway, that's your grade. Thank you for putting so much effort into this. Not that you don't put effort into your other ones." She spoke very quickly once she saw Hermione begin to frown.</p>
<p>"Thank you." The feeling of utter elation that came with a job well done began rushing through her, starting as a bit of warmth in her stomach, then becoming something bigger.</p>
<p>As she walked away, she considered Miss Mitterand's words. <em>The perspective of a family member.</em> That was strange, wasn't it? Loki had talked like an exasperated family member.</p>
<p>A devious grin stretched over her face. One day, she was going to find this 'Loki' and ask him some very select questions. She would wrangle him down like a cowboy did cattle if it was necessary.</p>
<p>She didn't notice the very psyched out teacher edging his way into the wall as a creepily smiling girl bounced down the hallway.</p><hr/>
<p>
  <strong>1993</strong>
</p>
<p>Hermione didn't usually use crude, foul language, but this was one time where she was willing to make an exception.</p>
<p>Her existence at the moment, quite frankly, was complete and utter shit.</p>
<p>For nine days, she had been trapped in her own immobile body, her rigid, frozen flesh imprisoning her mind within its confines. She couldn't move an inch, a centimetre, a millimetre. All of her attempts to even make a sound were utterly futile. Each of her thoughts were met with that same hopeless longing, longing for even the smallest amount of autonomy, for the smallest sound to seep its way through the impenetrable barrier of her lips. Her glazed eyes, glassy like a doll's, stared up at the white ceiling, the most boring thing possible to look at. Her hand that was raised in the air, clutching a piece of paper about the basilisk, fringed the edges of her vision.</p>
<p>Riding right next to the longing, there was terror, like the two feelings were siblings who were incredibly close. Every time she let her thoughts lull from frantic distraction to a calm lake, the evil yellow eyes of the basilisk flashed in front of her, clouding her vision. There was nothing else she could see, nothing else she could feel except the nauseating panic that the image of the snake brought forth. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before, nothing she would ever experience again.</p>
<p>One thing she was incredibly thankful for was the fact she was merely petrified, not dead. In a month and three weeks, approximately, she would be cured by the mandrakes that were currently growing in greenhouse three. Counting down the days became the only thing that lifted the oppressive weight crushing down on her chest, each day alleviating a sliver of the pressure that consumed her whole being. Slowly, it was becoming day.</p>
<p>The light at the end of the tunnel was coming nearer.</p>
<p>In between the panic and the basilisk that lurked at the edges of her vision, Hermione realised that there were many strange ways to stave off the boredom that was present when you were trapped within your own body for extended periods of time. One of the methods was reading her textbooks to herself. Knowing them off by heart was very handy in any situation. Now, she was so incredibly glad to have memorised them. Going through the details, the passages, the paragraphs, was a fairly entertaining pastime. Unfortunately, because she read so fast, she had soon read through all of her textbooks. Well, remembered her way through the textbooks.</p>
<p>She soon began to theorise about spell creation. This particular subject nabbed her interest halfway through her first year at Hogwarts. It hadn't let her go since. Just the tantalising thought of being able to create a spell for any purpose, anything at all, was enough to keep her enthralled.</p>
<p>The spell she'd spent most of her time thinking about worked similarly to a compass, as in it would point you where you needed to go. It seemed very handy. Unfortunately, due to being unable to move, she couldn't write ideas down. This unfortunate occurrence meant that many great ideas filtered out of her mind, never to be found again. As she considered herself to have an exemplary memory this was particularly frustrating.</p>
<p>Just as a new idea began forming in her mind, a simple incantation that would be very easy to remember, she saw something shift at the edge of her vision. She was practically deaf, as for some reason the petrification stopped her ears from working. That would be something interesting to study afterwards. There was no time to think about that, though.</p>
<p>The shadow was flitting around the outside of the room, staying just out of her vision. To say she was frustrated would be an understatement. There was obviously someone there. The shadow knew how to hide from her. If only she could call out.</p>
<p>A strange prickling began working its way up her back. If Hermione could have gulped, she would have. Slowly, it spread out, like a virus in her bloodstream, until the tingling covered every inch of her body. It intensified, until it became almost painful, needles pricking her skin from the inside out. The only thing stifling her cry was her sealed lips.</p>
<p>And then, all of a sudden, she was catapulted out of her body. The force of it flung her through the ceiling, flying upwards through the roof of the hospital wing, before coming to a swishy stop midair. She looked down, saw that she was floating at least twenty metres above the shingled roof of the hospital wing, and let out a bloodcurdling scream. This was only intensified when she looked down at her hands and saw straight through them. If she thought she was panicking before, this was terror multiplied by ten and stuck in a blender.</p>
<p>"Help!" She shrieked the words out, so loud that even her own ears began to hurt. "Someone help me!"</p>
<p>"They can't hear you." A vaguely familiar voice sounded behind her. She tried to turn around but found herself unable to swivel. Instead, she ended up flailing her arms in an extremely undignified manner. "And you're completely safe. No harm can come to you here." There was a slight breeze behind her and suddenly Loki, the strange man from the library, appeared in front of her. He was a spectre, just like her. She could see the castle through him. This time, he wore a strange ensemble of green and gold, leather and metal melding into an outfit that ought to belong in the fantasy games her cousin played. How strange...</p>
<p>"Have I died? Am I a ghost now?" The words blurted from her mouth before she was able to stop them. Stupid. Stupid, stupid! Why didn't she look at other possibilities before saying a half baked hypothesis? That was what surprise did to you, she supposed. She took stock of the situation. "And how are you here? Did you die as well?"</p>
<p>The rate this conversation was going, Hermione wished she would actually die.</p>
<p>Loki smiled slightly. "I can assure you, I am not dead. That isn't going to happen for a long, long time." Hermione's eyebrows crinkled in confusion. "No, I am merely here to help your plight. I couldn't imagine anything worse than being trapped in my own body."</p>
<p>"I don't need to imagine it. Trust me, it's awful." She shook her head. "What am I doing up here? What did you do to me?" She finally managed to turn around, shaking her body like the barrel of a washing machine. Loki genuinely chuckled at her ineptitude. The surprisingly warm sound made her feel slightly less panicked, made the ground metres below her feet not feel so...looming. How something could loom when it was so far below her? It seemed like she was stuck in a perpetual dolly zoom, the ground a gaping maw and she, the feeble prey.</p>
<p>"You're up here because your brand of magic reacted adversely to mine. What I was trying to do was make you float gently out of your body. Instead, you had to catapult yourself through the feeling. As to why you're up here, I wanted to give you an out from your prison."</p>
<p>"So you killed me?" Again! There she went with the death theory. Why was it the only thing that could creep into her whirlwind of a mind? It was frustrating.</p>
<p>"No, nothing so serious. I merely helped you access the Astral Plane, something I have known about for a long time but don't often use. I came across you in your petrified state and, for some odd reason, felt sorry for you." He looked genuinely puzzled, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. "I want to teach you how to use it, seeing as you are a mortal magic-user."</p>
<p>At his use of the word 'mortal' Hermione's suspicions from years ago returned full force. Here he was, a man called Loki, dressed in weird, old fashioned clothing, using a form of magic she knew nothing about. He used words like 'mortal' and spoke with an accent that sounded like it came out of Shakespearean times. Everything about him oozed casual grace, effortless elegance, careless arrogance. The kind of demeanour that came from being raised in a high standing position. Could it be that he was actually Loki? <em>The </em>Loki? The facts were stacking up in favour of it. If he was...Hermione had her new study for the foreseeable future, and far beyond that.</p>
<p>"Well, I won't pass up an opportunity to learn," she said, putting on an air of faux calm. She wasn't going to let her theory about him being the actual Loki show. The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass herself in front of someone she had admired for a lengthy period of time. His help at the library inspired her, leading to her often asking professionals for help with her schoolwork. If there was one thing she was good at now, it was seeking out professionals.</p>
<p>"Good. Now―"</p>
<p>"The first thing I want to learn about is the Astral Plane. You said you wanted to teach me how to use it, so let's begin." She crossed her arms. They phased right through each other. Hermione shivered at the distinctly uncomfortable feeling. It felt like someone was trickling ice water down her spine.</p>
<p>"You're very forward, aren't you?"</p>
<p>"I remember you asking me that question a few years ago. And yes, I am. Now, please teach me how to control myself in this state, as I am slightly scared of heights and being this high up is uncomfortable for me." She determinedly didn't look at the ground, instead deciding to focus on Loki's face. "Hurry up now."</p>
<p>Loki seemed rather miffed. "Alright. Moving around in the Astral Plane is mainly a matter of will, to begin with. Once you get more skilled at that, you'll begin to be able to walk and move around normally, as you would when you're in your normal body. You'll also be able to take objects from the normal world into the Astral Plane. If you follow me, I'll show you."</p>
<p>He slowly began drifting towards the roof of the hospital wing, descending in lazy circles. Hermione concentrated on trying to move down, remembering what Loki had said about 'will.'</p>
<p>Nothing happened.</p>
<p>She began wheeling her arms around, rather like a windmill. All that succeeded in doing was making her look like a total idiot. Scowling, she closed her eyes and concentrated extra hard on descending gently into the hospital wing.</p>
<p>Suddenly, she was falling through the sky, down, down, down, through the hospital wing, through her own body, into the classrooms beneath, until she was lodged securely in very solid rock.</p>
<p>She couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't breathe. The panic that overwhelmed her mind was as potent as a bad body spray. It was everywhere and everything. Never before had she felt such loss, such confusion, such frantic thoughts that circulated around and around, delivering hopelessness like a mail driver delivered packages.</p>
<p>"You alright there?" Loki appeared in front of her face, grinning like a maniac. How could he move? How could he speak? "You can move, you know. Calm down and you will be able to feel some semblance of sense again." He paused for a moment, the silence extremely devious. "If you ever had much sense, to begin with."</p>
<p>"I have plenty of sense, thank you very much," Hermione exclaimed. "If anyone doesn't have any sense...oh." She slowly moved her arms up and down. Heat blossomed in her cheeks and even though she couldn't feel them, Hermione knew that her face must be flushed a bright scarlet. Or silver. She wasn't sure how spirits blushed. That would be another thing to look at once she managed to gain control over this strange new form of magic.</p>
<p>"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" The phrase, which would have normally been comforting, was sarcastic, smug, almost a little bit degrading. "Now, will yourself to go up into the hospital wing. Concentrate very specifically on the place you want to go. Otherwise, you'll end up careening through the sky for the third time and embarrass yourself further than you already have."</p>
<p>"I'm new to this, you know. There's no need to go all bossy on me."</p>
<p>"Strange of you to say that when you are usually the one doing the bossing."</p>
<p>"Fair enough." Loki began drifting upwards. "Wait, stay here. If I can't move, I'm going to need your help." He kept on ascending. "Well, aren't you the most friendly person I've ever met?" The last part was muttered to herself, as she turned her mind to willing herself upwards.</p>
<p>Just as Loki has said before, she began willing herself forwards. Upwards. Sideways. Anything. Any movement at this time was progress. The sooner she could get out of this claustrophobic rock, the better. Panicking would get her nowhere, so she concentrated all she could on transporting herself. It didn't take her long to notice that what Loki was describing sounded remarkably similar to Disapparation. Maybe if she applied some of the processes on how that was done to moving now…</p>
<p>With a great whoosh, Hermione shot upwards, springing out of the hospital wing floor. She came to a stop next to Loki, who was looking at her in mild surprise. A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips.</p>
<p>"You weren't expecting me to grasp it that fast, were you?" She crossed her arms. "Well, I did. Don't underestimate me."</p>
<p>"No, it's not that."</p>
<p>"What is it then?"</p>
<p>"You somehow managed to combine teleportation with moving around on your second go. That doesn't come until much later."</p>
<p>Hermione considered his words for a second. "Well, sometimes you have to run before you walk."</p>
<p>"I don't consider that very good advice. It doesn't seem very characteristic of you, Miss Granger."</p>
<p>"Hermione, please. You aren't one of my teachers. It sounds weird. And, if you were wondering, when I do something weird or far more advanced than I should be able to, without realising it, I become a little bit excitable."</p>
<p>"I can see that."</p>
<p>Hermione didn't reply. She was slowly wafting over to her hospital bed, being very careful not to lose control of herself again. The last thing she wanted was to end up clinging to the top of the Astronomy Tower, or hovering in Professor Dumbledore's office. She still didn't know if people outside of the Astral Plane could see her and Loki. Considering they were apparently on another plane, it would be improbable if they could. Hermione was never one to rule out possibilities until she had concrete proof, though, so she was going to be cautious until she had an answer.</p>
<p>Her eyes roamed over her own frozen form, taking in every detail. It was...disconcerting seeing herself without looking in a mirror or some reflective surface. Like someone had made a lifesize, incredibly realistic dummy. So realistic it would look out of place in Madame Tussauds.</p>
<p>"How do I get back in?"</p>
<p>"Once again, it is a matter of willpower. I'm quite sure that you don't want to go in right now, though. Am I correct in my assumption?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, you are." She pursed her lips. "Can people see you when you're on the Astral Plane?"</p>
<p>"Only if you choose so. One of the main benefits of using the Astral Plane is the astounding amount of control you have over everything. Most of the activities you undertake here don't have any impact on your physical self. You do remember everything that you do here."</p>
<p>Hermione's eyes gained a hungry gleam. "So, if I learned how to control myself here, I could bring books in and read while I'm asleep?"</p>
<p>"Potentially, yes. You would have to practice a lot more to gain control of it to bring physical objects into the Astral Plane. It is possible. I have done it myself, before."</p>
<p>"Well, tell me the steps I need to make to do it."</p>
<p>And so, for the next few days, Hermione and Loki talked and talked and talked. Hermione absorbed the knowledge like a sponge, always eager for more. Loki found it nice that there was someone so eager to listen to his teachings. On Asgard, being more academically inclined was frowned upon. In the presence of Hermione, though, it made him feel like a true god. Watching her master the smallest steps made him inordinately proud. When she finally managed to bring a physical object into the Astral Plane (a book of course, what else would it be?), he shared her triumph, chuckling as she cheered, smiling slightly as she relished the see-through pages in her fingers, delicately turning them like they were all made of the most precious material in the world. He supposed that, to her, books were the most precious things in the world. It was fascinating how much they meant to her.</p>
<p>When Hermione finally managed to gather the courage to return to her frozen body, it took her a while to actually get back in. The deal of willpower was, quite frankly, exhausting. For the first time, drowsiness overtook her body. Sleepiness. Just the overwhelming urge to lay her head down on a soft pillow, drift off to sleep, leave the rest of the worries to the world for a bit.</p>
<p>Slowly, without even realising, she sunk down into her body, her mind descending into slumber, even though her eyes remained wide open, glassy, staring blankly at the ceiling above.</p>
<p>For the first time in weeks, she felt a sense of peace.</p><hr/>
<p>Loki was enthralled with what this strange little girl was capable of. Her mind ran at speeds superior to most adults on Midgard (not Asgard. Even the thought of it was utterly ludicrous). The way she applied herself to tasks, with a fervour not too dissimilar to his brother on a hunting trip, was disconcerting and fascinating at the same time.</p>
<p>Add in the fact that Odin and Heimdall somehow didn't know that mortal magic users existed, given the fact that they had somehow, impossibly, managed to hide, and he had something to hold over their heads. Something that could possibly help him gain favour in his father's eyes. Over his brother.</p>
<p>Right now, he would keep Hermione a secret, just like he would keep the rest of the Wizarding World a secret. When he gathered enough information, he would reveal his findings to his father, to his brother, to Heimdall.</p>
<p>At that moment, he began thinking of Hermione as less of a friend and more of a project.</p>
<p>And that would prove to be the point that the rift in their relationship began.</p><hr/>
<p>
  <strong>1995</strong>
</p>
<p>"I'm going down for dinner. Do you want to come?" Ginny paused, leaning on the doorframe. "I think it's roast. Mum always does the best roast."</p>
<p>Hermione smiled gently, slipping a bookmark into her novel and shutting it. Ginny had been trying to get her to come down to dinner for the last week. Of course, she wasn't successful, seeing as the person she was trying to persuade was Hermione Granger. She was often known as the most stubborn girl in Gryffindor Tower. The change, after being un-petrified in the second year, was quite a surprise to those around her. They soon became used to it, embracing the new facet of her personality with almost jarring enthusiasm.</p>
<p>"No, sorry, Ginny. I'm going to stay up here. I've got a lot of work to do."</p>
<p>"What work?"</p>
<p>Hermione gestured to the mess of papers spread around her, on the bed, on the desk that was supposed to be shared (Ginny didn't mind that Hermione commandeered it. At least that was what she thought). They were all charmed so that only Hermione could read them. This led to a lot of frustration coming from Ginny's end. "This work. Can't you see it? Should you go and get an eye check?"</p>
<p>"You finished all of your homework over a month ago." Ginny's flaming hair fell into her eyes. In her frustration, she didn't even bother to move it. Huh. That was rather unusual.</p>
<p>"That is true."</p>
<p>"So what are you working on? You've been so secretive about it. It's driving me insane."</p>
<p>"That is also true."</p>
<p>"Are you trying to wind me up? If so, you're doing a damn good job at it."</p>
<p>While picking up another book, Hermione serenely said, "Of course I'm trying to wind you up. You annoy far too easily." She frowned, eyebrows knitting together faster than her grandmother could knit a sweater. "I'm sorry, that didn't turn out quite how I imagined it would."</p>
<p>"Okay…" Ginny was glancing at Hermione like she was a particularly dangerous housecat. Or a finch. Both worked, though perhaps a cat was a more fitting analogy, given how both had the propensity to be frizzy and manic. Yes, a cat worked far better than a finch. "Well, since you're set on being in here, I'm off."</p>
<p>"Could you bring me up some dinner?"</p>
<p>"No. Dinner is for people who leave their rooms." Ginny waggled her finger, before dashing out of the room as Hermione lobbed a pillow at her. "I resent that!" The last part was muffled by the door that Ginny slammed behind her. Her footsteps faded until Hermione was left in comfortable, warm silence.</p>
<p>She swivelled around, only to get her foot caught in a fold of the duvet. She toppled down to the floor with a squeak, pain blossoming up her arm faster than a race car. A groan slipped past her lips. Merlin, she was lucky no one was there to see her ungainly tumble. Just as she began hauling herself to her feet, someone spoke.</p>
<p>"Well, that is one way to do things."</p>
<p>Hermione whipped around, not even bothering to untangle her leg from the duvet. She knew exactly who was behind her, leaning casually against the closed door, a sardonic eyebrow raised, arms crossed in an amusing fashion. It had been years since she'd seen him, years since he'd stood in front of her and raised his eyebrows like that.</p>
<p>"Yes, it isn't the ideal way." She yanked the duvet off her foot and stood. "And hello, by the way. That's usually how you greet people."</p>
<p>"I am aware of your customary human greetings. It is actually quite similar back home."</p>
<p>Hermione's eyes widened, realising that this was the perfect opportunity to ask the question she had been building evidence about for years. All the books around her contained information on Norse mythology, no matter how scant it was. Her obsession (not that she would ever call it that) didn't go unnoticed by Harry and Ron, who actually were nice to her about it, buying her more books on the subject for Christmas and her birthday. Right now, she was finally going to ask the question that had been burning, sizzling, cracking and spitting, at the back of her mind for six agonising years.</p>
<p>Small talk could wait until she was done with her questioning.</p>
<p>She sat down on her bed, moving the books aside. "And where would home be, exactly?"</p>
<p>"Nowhere you would know."</p>
<p>"I think I do know," she said, grinning maniacally. Loki's face twisted into an expression of slight nervousness. It was almost comical. Hermione didn't recall ever seeing him look like that. Well, there was a first time for everything, she supposed. "I think I know exactly where you're from, who your brother is and who your parents are. I think I know a lot more about you than you think I do."</p>
<p>"Oh?" Loki's face slipped back into a placid expression, the unease easily hidden under a well-practised mask. "And where do you think I might be from? Who do you think my family is?" He walked over to Ginny's bed, sitting and fixing Hermione with an impressively curious stare. "Go on, tell me. Spell it all out."</p>
<p>She knew he was goading her, trying to put her in a state of mind where words blurted out of her mouth before she managed to dredge up a single coherent thought. Luckily, she had a lot of practice with avoiding this. The girls in her dorm room had made it a sort of sport to try and make Hermione embarrass herself. At first, it had made her miserable. Soon, though, she used it as practice for staying calm in the face of adversity. And, she wasn't going to lie, to see those girls become a group of screeching monkeys because she didn't react to their taunts was very, very rewarding.</p>
<p>Right now, she was going to 'spell it out for him,' as he so eloquently said. He would probably be expecting her to go on for ages, presenting every single little piece of evidence she had in her repertoire. No, not today.</p>
<p>"You're the real Loki, your brother is Thor and your parents are Odin and Frigga. You live on Asgard and are the God of Lies and Mischief."</p>
<p>There.</p>
<p>That was all it took. One speedy glance over at Loki's face was enough to prove she'd caught him off guard. One look was all it took to confirm her suspicions. She was right. The mysterious man who came into her life every few years, ever so often, leaving only the intoxicating feeling of curiosity welling up in Hermione, was the actual Loki. From the myths and legends. If he wasn't here, Hermione would be tempted to slap herself silly, to make sure she was really here. At this moment, this moment where years of research paid off!</p>
<p>"Finally."</p>
<p>It was nothing more than a whisper that slipped past her lips. A whisper of triumph. It was a different type of triumph, private, swirling within her like the gentle swells of the incoming tide.</p>
<p>"Yes, finally. For you. I have to say, this is not how I expected this meeting to go."</p>
<p>She ignored his clipped tone. "I'm right, aren't I."</p>
<p>He gave a mighty sigh. "Yes, you're right. I am Loki of Asgard."</p>
<p>She punched her fist in the air. "Yes!"</p>
<p>"Yes, indeed. Your intellect never ceases to astound me." Hermione made a noise that wouldn't have been out of place coming from a mouse. "When I came to see you today, I was expecting that I would tell you who I actually am. Not the other way round. It is...odd, to have my plans debunked in such a spectacularly strange fashion. I must admit, while I knew you were researching Norse mythology, I didn't realise you'd come so far along."</p>
<p>Hermione knew she was vibrating. She knew it wasn't the way she should behave in front of a literal god (or something close to that, she supposed), but her muscles and brain conspired to break through what was commonly considered decent. She honestly couldn't bring herself to care.</p>
<p>"Okay…" Her words fizzled out when she realised her mind was completely blank. No. That couldn't be. Was she so starstruck by the man in front of her that her brains completely emptied of all coherent and rational thought?</p>
<p>Luckily, Loki seemed to cotton onto her dilemma. Something changed in his face, the smallest smile at the corner of his mouth. "I suppose that you want to know more about Asgard."</p>
<p>"Yes...everything! I want to know everything!" She snapped to life, desperately fishing around her book covered bed for a notebook and pencil. As much as she loved using quills, pencils were more practical. If there was one thing that she was determined to avoid it was ink stains on her bed.</p>
<p>And so, for the next half hour, they talked. Hermione asked about everything, from what material the palace was made of (she was astounded to find it was made of solid gold) to what the main breed of horse used was. Her questioning was extensive. Some would argue it didn't need to be as specific as it was. Hermione would refute those claims, saying that all the information she gathered was important, from the biggest idea down to the smallest detail.</p>
<p>Loki was happy to answer the questions, revelling in the feeling that was being the centre of attention. As it usually went to Thor, he didn't know how it felt. How it fizzed in his veins, speeding up and down, sending down an invisible beam of golden light for him to bask in. Usually, he would have shied away from it, knowing that at any second Thor was going to barge in and snatch it away from him. Here, though, there was no chance of that. No one except him knew about the wizarding world. Everyone on Asgard thought they were long extinct since the witch burnings of medieval times made them die out. Now, from talking to Hermione and doing a lot of research into their history, he realised that the theory was entirely defunct. Of course, he figured this out the second he met Hermione.</p>
<p>On Asgard, everyone, including the All-Father and Heimdall, believed that the wizarding world went kaput hundreds of years ago. That they died out at the hands of vengeful non-magicians who believed that witches were a sign of impending doom, that their wonderful magical abilities were gifted to them by Satan. With nothing better to do, they went into hiding, erecting monstrously large wards that pulsed with power, pushing all those who wanted to prosecute them away. The wards were powerful enough to dispel even Heimdall and Odin, leading to their belief of mortal magic users being extinct.</p>
<p>Loki was going to prove them wrong, though. For years, he'd hidden away, gathering information. Theorising on how exactly he was going to tell the All-Father that he had found something first. He knew now how he was going to do it; that was the entire purpose of his visit. Of all the wizards and witches that he'd visited, Hermione was the most hungry for knowledge, the most polite, and the one who liked him the best. Having someone who liked him would heighten the chances that they would accept his offer, which was disguised as a learning experience.</p>
<p>Their conversation was cut off by the clomping of several sets of footsteps making their way up the stairs. Hermione snapped her notebook shut, stowing it under her pillow along with the pencil. She didn't worry about the rest of the books, due to the charm she placed upon them.</p>
<p>"Thank you so much, this has been amazing." Her voice was hushed. The last thing she wanted was for the Weasleys to find out about Loki. They would ask question after question, and not the good kind. The kind that didn't stop being asked until she gave an exasperated answer that barely sated their curiosity. That really wasn't something she wanted to deal with right now. She really did love the Weasleys as family, but all family gets annoying at times.</p>
<p>"It has been just as informative for me. Your wizarding world, as you call it, is fascinating."</p>
<p>"I didn't answer any questions…"</p>
<p>"You didn't need to."</p>
<p>Hermione's eyes widened. "You have to come back sometime tomorrow and tell me how you do that."</p>
<p>"Only as long as I get to ask you some questions."</p>
<p>"That's fair, considering how much I grilled you today." She quickly corrected herself, seeing how Loki's brow wrinkled in confusion. "It means I asked you a lot of questions."</p>
<p>"I see. I'll be going now, those footsteps are getting worryingly close."</p>
<p>"Okay. See you tomorrow. And don't you dare be late."</p>
<p>"I wouldn't dream of it."</p>
<p>Silently, with a flash of green light, Loki teleported, leaving Hermione with her jaw gaping wide. She shut it just as Ginny practically fell into the room, her face stormy for some odd reason.</p>
<p>"Fred and George played a 'prank'," she spat the word out like it was the most disgusting thing in the world, "that turned the roast into rubber. Who does that?"</p>
<p>"Them, I guess."</p>
<p>"I know that Hermione, don't be a smartass." Ginny flopped onto her bed, hair splayed out over the pillow. Hermione would never say it, but it made her look rather like an aggressive fireplace.</p>
<p>"I'm not being a smartass."</p>
<p>Ginny threw a pillow her way. Hermione was unable to dodge in time. It landed straight on her face, before falling down to the ground, leaving a very ticked off bookworm in its wake.</p><hr/>
<p>That night, as soon as Ginny went to sleep, Hermione jumped out of her body and into the Astral Plane. Ever since Loki had taught her that trick, she'd used it most nights to help her jump ahead in her schoolwork. If she'd had an edge before, now she was miles ahead of everyone else. It was especially helpful during her third year at Hogwarts, what with all of her time travelling shenanigans.</p>
<p>At the moment, she was using it to categorize her notes from Loki. They were a chaotic mess of scribbles and diagrams that gave her a headache every single time she laid eyes on it. She found it almost impossible to believe that these notes were written by her hand. So, she took this time to organize them into something sensible, something easily legible and also easily hidden. The last thing she wanted was someone opening her notebook and getting a glimpse.</p>
<p>"And that one goes there," she muttered, neatly rewriting the words into another blank notebook. A flash of green caught her eye. A very familiar flash of green. What was Loki doing back so soon?</p>
<p>"Hello again," Loki said, rushing the words. He seemed rather thrilled with himself, an expression she was very familiar with, from when Ron finished a large meal.</p>
<p>"Yes, hello. You're back rather soon." She placed the book down on the nightstand.</p>
<p>"And with an offer."</p>
<p>Hermione's ears perked up. "What may this offer be?"</p>
<p>"Because you're so keen on Asgard, I figured that I might bring you there. I have procured permission from my father. We leave in five minutes."</p>
<p>Hermione gave an odd noise, before fainting, falling straight back down into her body. She then woke up and said:</p>
<p>"YES!"</p><hr/>
<p>"How long can we spend there? I have to be back by the morning, so it can't be that long. Ginny is also asleep, and might wake up at any time, so we're going to need a decoy." Hermione gabbled, running her hands through her hair. "And that's not even mentioning the wards on this place. Professor Dumbledore will know the second I leave―hang on, why are you laughing?"</p>
<p>Loki was indeed laughing, chuckling away to himself at Hermione's obvious panic. "I know about the wards. I've already made my way past them several times undetected. Did you really think I would have a problem with getting us both out?" He did look a mite affronted.</p>
<p>Hermione's cheeks pinked slightly. "No, but am I not entitled to my worry? This is a completely new experience. I'm going to learn so much, Merlin, this is going to be amazing. You're going to have to take me more than once, you know. It is going to take more than one visit for me to find out all the information I want. Oh, oh, I'm going to have to compare it to my notes as well, to see what I got right." She continued to become more and more excited with every passing second. It seemed that she'd taken a page out of a squawking chicken's book, given how much she currently resembled a panicked bird.</p>
<p>Loki took a step back, slightly alarmed at Hermione's thirst for knowledge. He knew the girl was like a sponge, but this exceeded anything he'd imagined at all. It wasn't annoying, though. There was a strange charm to it. He did need to stop her before she began spinning around like a top, though. He wouldn't put it past her to accidentally destroy some furniture in her current state. Thank the Norns for the silencing spell he'd had the foresight to cast upon her, so only he could hear her.</p>
<p>"Just grab a notebook and we need to be off. You can compare your research and the real thing when you return home early tomorrow morning." Hermione stopped her rapid flapping. "And before you ask, here is a substitute that will fool anyone who comes to see you."</p>
<p>He waved his hand with a flourish. A green light flashed, a copy of Hermione popping into existence. Real Hermione crept towards it, eyes wide in wonder.</p>
<p>"It's identical to me!"</p>
<p>"Of course. Would you expect anything less?"</p>
<p>"I've learned not to." She gave him a cheeky grin, before grabbing the blank notebook she was scribbling in before, watching in fascination as her clone clambered beneath the duvet covers and started snoring softly. She was too fascinated to even be irritated. "This should be enough for this time. Oh, my wand, of course." With the wand clasped in her hand, she turned expectantly to Loki. "So, how do we get to Asgard? How does the Bifrost work?" Before she could go off on another spiel, she zipped her lips. She still looked ready to burst at the seams, though.</p>
<p>"As you mentioned, we get to Asgard via the Bifrost. You will enjoy the experience. We do have to go outside, though. And even before we do that, you need a change of clothes. As practical as your jeans are, you would make a far better impression if you were dressed in the traditional Asgardian regalia." Hermione's eyes lit up. "It would be prudent if you remained calm when we are on Asgard. Being an overexcited dodo is perfectly fine here, but it will not go over well there."</p>
<p>"First of all, I am not a dodo. Second of all, I get to wear traditional Asgardian clothes? This is a dream come true." Indeed, Hermione looked like she'd just won the lottery. If the lottery was gaining inordinate amounts of knowledge that no one else in the Wizarding World even knew existed.</p>
<p>"Please stand still, this will only take a moment." Loki swished his hand and a green glow encapsulated Hermione. For a second, nothing happened. Then her clothes began morphing. Her jeans extended outwards, blooming into a blue embroidered skirt, lightweight and flowy. The top half followed, her shirt transforming into a stunning bodice, while the jacket turned into a shimmering cape that swept the floor. To top it off, the hair clip that was pinning back her fringe became a silver circlet.</p>
<p>Hermione quickly turned to the wall and muttered, "<em>Speculo magnum,</em>" a handy spell that she learned from Lavender Brown the night of the Yule Ball. A full-length mirror appeared on the wall, letting her see her reflection.</p>
<p>"Opinions? I modelled it off of a dress in the history books, with a few tweaks to update it to current times." Loki knew that he didn't need to ask. From the astonished look on her face, it was clear she had fallen in love with the transfigured garment. No, the garment wasn't the right set of words. The masterpiece. Yes, that was far more fitting.</p>
<p>"I―it's beautiful. Thank you." She ran her fingers over the material, marvelling at the smoothness of it. "What is this made of? I've never felt something this smooth…" She trailed off as she realised every second she spent here on Earth obsessing over the fabric of the dress was a second lost to be investigating the mysteries and wonders of Asgard.</p>
<p>Snatching a bag off of the bedside table to stow her notebook, pen, two back up pens and her wand, Hermione turned to Loki. She gave him a resolute nod, trying her best not to explode in excitement. Maybe that drama class her mother made her take when she was seven was worth it.</p>
<p>"Take my arm."</p>
<p>"Where are we going?"</p>
<p>"Just to the outside terrace, so Heimdall can open the Bifrost."</p>
<p>"Why do we have to be outside?"</p>
<p>"Would you like to be the one to explain why there is a hole in the roof of your bedroom?"</p>
<p>"Ah Right." Hermione grasped onto his wrist, tight. From what she'd read about side along apparition, you needed to keep an iron grip on the other person's arm, or wherever you were holding on. She was sure that Loki's version would be a lot different, given that he could get past the wards around Grimmauld place undetected.</p>
<p>A sudden thought occurred to her. Loki was in the Astral Plane. How in Merlin's name was she gripping onto his arm? She was just about to ask but was stopped by what felt like cold wind whooshing over her. For a second, all she saw was a green light, impossibly bright but someone dull at the same time. The cold wind wasn't uncomfortable. What was uncomfortable was how she felt like she was falling with nothing to catch her.</p>
<p>As soon as she opened her mouth to scream, it stopped. The green light faded, giving way to the parched grass and grubby street in front of Grimmauld Place. Huh. So that was what it felt like when Loki teleported. It certainly wasn't Disapparition. In no way had it felt like she was being compressed into the smallest tube and spat out the other end. Nausea wasn't taking over her head, nor did she feel the need to collapse onto the pavement, legs turned to jelly.</p>
<p>Catching her breath, Hermione turned to look at Loki. "So, now do we use the Bifrost?"</p>
<p>"Of course." He gave a small smirk, before calling, "Heimdall, open the Bifrost."</p>
<p>Nothing happened for a second.</p>
<p>Then a bright light, rainbow light, shot down from the sky. Hermione didn't even have time to open her mouth in awe before it enveloped the two of them.</p>
<p>Upwards.</p>
<p>A strong force was pulling them upwards. The boring street-front gave way to whirling, racing, blinding lights. Hermione could catch the occasional glimpse of deep space, stars twinkling merrily as if greeting her. She let out a joyous cry. This was what she was here for. The payoff of years of research. Discovering something no one else believed. With the wind whipping through her hair, her stomach forced to the bottom of her body like she was on a rollercoaster, eyes gleaming with manic glee, Hermione spread out her arms and spun around, revelling in the feeling of pure magic around her.</p>
<p>Next to her, it seemed that Loki was smiling slightly. While she was spinning wildly, he travelled straight, arms relaxed, legs moving as if in the light flow of a stream. Why would he have that expression? Unless something was about to happen. Hermione wouldn't put it past him to gain amusement out of her situation, seeing as she was going to be a total fish out of water. He was, after all, the God of Mischief and Lies. If that name didn't clue her inㄧ</p>
<p>Her thoughts were halted as she found herself being catapulted out of the Bifrost stream and into a golden sphere. She flew through the air, crashing hard into a central column. A dull ache began to sneak into her bones as she groaned in pain. That was going to hurt like a bitch tomorrow.</p>
<p>The annoyance was soon swept away by wonder as she took in the room around her. Completely made of gold, the sphere was large, airy, with a massive, circular hole in the wall overlooking space. There was nothing beyond it. The walls were adorned with decorative circles, reminding her of the spokes in a bicycle wheel, only one-hundred times more elegant.</p>
<p>In the centre, where Hermione was hauling herself to the ground, was a podium with the hilt of a sword sticking out of it. Holding that sword was a dark-skinned man with intense yellow eyes. He had to be Heimdall. The armour he wore, pure gold, matched the Bifrost chamber perfectly.</p>
<p>What shocked her the most was the feeling of magic in the air. It was thick, strong...intoxicating. Even at Hogwarts, there was nothing like this, and the magic at Hogwarts was considered to be the most concentrated in Wizarding England. This was on a whole nother level. Just the feeling of it rushing through Hermione was enough to make her feel high. Light. Floating through the sky. She pulled herself back, though, not wanting to get lost in the wonder of it. That wouldn't be good.</p>
<p>Now standing, Hermione turned to Loki, who was standing by the hole, totally unbothered. Compared to what she must look like, he was remarkably unruffled. His eyes were crinkled at the edges, the only sign that he found her ungainly clumsiness amusing. Otherwise, he was the perfect picture of princely composure.</p>
<p>"Is this who you spoke of, my prince?" Heimdall spoke, voice deep and booming. Hermione took a step back so she could see both of them. "For if she is, you seem to have deceived us. She is a mortal, though with far more to offer than you put forward."</p>
<p>"I would never have procured permission to bring her to Asgard had I had told the truth, Heimdall. You know how my father is with Midgardians. There is something different about her. Look and you will see."</p>
<p>Heimdall turned his piercing eyes on Hermione. It was as if she was being x-rayed. The feeling wasn't uncomfortable, though, more of a tickle at the back of her neck. It reminded her distinctly of Professor Dumbledore. Heimdall raised his head in a slight nod.</p>
<p>"Indeed, there is. I suggest you seek an audience with Odin." Hermione let out a small squeak (Loki chuckled). "He will be interested in your discovery." He raised his head at Hermione. "Enjoy your time on Asgard, Miss Granger. I dare say you will have several full notebooks by the time your visit has elapsed." Her cheeks flushed a slight red. He really could see everything, including the several notebooks stuffed into her dress, deep in the pockets that were so large they may as well be another dimension.</p>
<p>"I will enjoy my time here. How could I not? This is amazing, and this is only the start…" She trailed off as, for the first time, she laid eyes on Asgard. The golden towers of the palace, shining above the rest, resided over the city, which on its own was stunning. Columns, statues, all impossibly elegant. A bright sapphire sky above and the stars behind.</p>
<p>The most beautiful thing Hermione had ever seen.</p>
<p>"This...this is your home?" she breathed, barely able to speak through her wonder. "It's...amazing." She fell quiet, still gazing upon the majesty that was Asgard. With how stunning it was she found it was quite impossible to tear her eyes away from it. If given the opportunity she would happily stay here forever, gazing upon the realm. "How can you ever bear to leave?"</p>
<p>"After 1200 years, you find that a change of scenery is a welcome respite. I visit other realms a lot, though I do always return here. You could say there is a certain charm to it. Besides, it's my home. I'll always return."</p>
<p>"Of course. It's beautiful." The words were still whispered.</p>
<p>"Are you just going to stay here or are we going to go further into Asgard? Your questions aren't going to be answered here. No, you can ask Heimdall your questions when we leave." Hermione's hand dropped. She could be satisfied with that answer. Just the fact that she was here, on another world, most likely the first 'Midgardian' to step foot on Asgard, was enough.</p>
<p>"We can go. Merlin's beard, we can go. We need to go." She pointed at Heimdall, a pen suddenly appearing in her hand. "I will be back to question you, understand me?" Her eyes widened, realising what she'd just said. "Oh, I am so sorry. I don't know what came over me."</p>
<p>"No offence taken," chuckled Heimdall. "There are horses waiting outside for you, my prince. Be mindful that Miss Granger doesn't fall off."</p>
<p>"Of course. You think I would?"</p>
<p>"I wouldn't put it past you."</p>
<p>"Oh, hardyharhaar, very funny."</p>
<p>"I've ridden a horse before, Loki," said Hermione, cutting in before the banter could reach a critical level. She'd seen this behaviour before in Harry and Ron. Even if they were literal gods, it seemed that the result would be the same. "My aunt owned a farm and had a few horses. Not that I ever rode in a dress."</p>
<p>"I see," Loki said. "Let's go, shall we? We will be back before nightfall, as Hermione here needs to return to Midgard before dawn. She has very nosy friends." He ignored her 'harrumph' of protest.</p>
<p>"I look forward to your return." Heimdall turned away from them, gazing out over the vast vacuum of space.</p>
<p>"Why can't we just walk?" asked Hermione. "It doesn't look that far."</p>
<p>"Trust me, the Rainbow Bridge is far further than it looks. To walk down it at your mortal speed would take at least half an hour. We don't have that time to waste, hence the horses."</p>
<p>Waiting placidly outside were two horses, a stallion and a mare. Loki immediately mounted the black stallion, sitting regally on top. He really did look the textbook image of a prince. Hermione turned to the dappled mare meant for her. Apart from the horse being slightly larger than a horse on Earth Hermione couldn't see any other differences. There were definitely more. Luckily, it seemed the horse was placid and relaxed in nature. All it did as she mounted it was nicker slightly and shift to accommodate her weight.</p>
<p>"Onwards, shall we?" said Hermione in a faux deep voice, nose towards the sky, finger pointing towards the towers of the palace. "The bounty awaits."</p>
<p>"There is no bounty, Hermione." Loki wore an expression of utter bemusement.</p>
<p>"Oh, but that's where you're wrong. The knowledge that can be gained here…"</p>
<p>And so they began to ride along the Rainbow Bridge. Every pounding hoofbeat sent glimmering fractals splashing outwards. Below them, waves crashed, above them, the sun shined, in front of them, Asgard waited. Hermione couldn't contain her excitement any longer. The entire time, she squawked on about how excited she was to be there, asking questions about everything. Loki answered every question genuinely. For him, it just felt good to have someone who trusted him as much as Hermione did. The name 'Loki' wasn't exactly synonymous with trust.</p>
<p>At last, they reached the entrance to the palace. Great golden gates reached towards the sky, great golden guards (called the Einherjar, Hermione learned) standing sentinel. As they saw Loki approaching they stepped forward. One of them helped Hermione dismount her horse. She thanked him. He nodded back, leading the mare away. The other did the same with Loki's horse. The gates in front of them opened wide, the entrance to the palace now right within their grasp.</p>
<p>Loki began striding forward. Hermione snapped herself out of her reverie and began following. There was a particular burning question that she wanted to ask, though wasn't sure how. Maybe it would be best to bite the bullet. Just say it outright. Surely it couldn't do much harm. She still needed to be careful, though. The last thing she wanted to do was offend Loki.</p>
<p>Wringing her hands, Hermione asked, "Why didn't you tell Heimdall I could use magic? Is it a bad thing for me to be able to do magic here?"</p>
<p>Loki chuckled. "Quite the opposite. I merely want to keep it a surprise for my father. Heimdall already knows. It would be impossible for him not to. For centuries, Asgardians have thought the mortal magic-users of Midgard to be extinct. Odin will be very pleased to see that your kind are, to use a Midgardian term, alive and kicking."</p>
<p>Hermione frowned slightly. She supposed that keeping it as a surprise made a modicum of sense, even if it did rub her the wrong way slightly. Knowing Loki's history with Odin, how he was often cast aside for Thor, bringing a surprise like this to the forefront would be an extremely good thing for him.</p>
<p>"As long as you don't treat me like a trophy, then we're good." She gently rubbed the leather of the horse's reins. "I assume you'll want me to demonstrate my magic to the Allfather?"</p>
<p>"Yes, that is correct," Loki replied, slightly affronted. "What would make you think after all these years that I would treat you like a trophy? We're friends, are we not? I simply think that you're the best candidate to bring Midgardian magic back into the light. Besides, you're on Asgard. Why don't you enjoy it, rather than worrying about trivial things that aren't even true?"</p>
<p>Her cheeks dusted pink at the praise. "I suppose."</p>
<p>"You seem rather meek all of a sudden."</p>
<p>Hermione chuckled. "I assure you, it's nothing bad. It's just all sinking in for me. I'll be back to my normal self in no time. It's just...this is incredible. I know that I've said it before, but thank you. This is the best thing that's ever happened to me."</p>
<p>"It's my pleasure, Hermione."</p>
<p>With the horses handed to stablehands, who bowed at Loki and curtseyed at Hermione (much to her shock), they headed into the main bowels of the opulent palace. There were many Asgardians occupying the halls, all gazing at Loki with respect. Tapestries hung on the wall, detailing the history of Asgard is gorgeously saturated colours and shimmering threads. She recognised several of the figures, excitedly pointing them out to Loki. He nodded along with her, pointing out even more small details that she didn't take in at first glance.</p>
<p>She followed Loki around a corner, the nerves ricocheting through her growing stronger by the second. It felt like bugs were scurrying around under her skin, butterflies fluttering recklessly in her stomach. Never before could she recall feeling such anxiety, such a thrill. So engrossed in her own thoughts was she that she nearly bumped into someone. If it wasn't for Loki gently tugging her aside, she would surely have gracelessly tumbled to the ground.</p>
<p>"I'm so sorry," she exclaimed. So much for making a good impression. "It was my mistake." Hermione glanced up, eyes growing wide as she recognised just who was standing in front of her. Flowing brown hair, warriors garb and a sword on her back. <em>Sif.</em> "Oh, Merlin."</p>
<p>"It's alright, it was a mistake anyone could make. I haven't seen you around here before. I'm Lady Sif of the Warrior's Three, and you may be?" Somehow her voice was kind and commanding at the same time, ringing through Hermione's head.</p>
<p>"Hermione Granger," she managed to squeak out. "Thank you for understanding. Again, I'm so sorry. It's an honour to meet you." The urge to wring her hands was almost overpowering. Standing in the presence of someone so powerful, who she looked up to through literature, was terrifying. Hermione desperately tamped down on that fear.</p>
<p>"Oh, there's nothing to worry about. Stop apologising to me. Now, what are you doing with Loki?" Said person sharply glanced up, apprehension written all over his face. "Is he taking you on a tour of the palace?"</p>
<p>"We're on our way to an audience with the Allfather," Loki said tensely.</p>
<p>"Is that so? There are many people who are already waiting, you'll be there for a while." She turned to Hermione. "Why don't you come and wait with me? Loki can come back to get you when the Allfather is ready to see you. I'm sure that you'll have a better time with us."</p>
<p>Her opinion of Sif was suddenly soured.</p>
<p>"I'm actually fine waiting with Loki, thank you very much. Thank you for the offer, though. It was very generous of you." Loki wasn't lying when he said that Sif was dismissive of him quite often. To see it first hand was infuriating. "If you don't mind, we'll be on our way."</p>
<p>Sif's eyes widened slightly. "Your choice. Very nice to meet you, Hermione Granger. Hopefully, I'll see you around." Sif smiled at her, sent a slight glare Loki's way, and continued on her way, armour clinking with every purposeful step.</p>
<p>Hermione began striding down the hallway. Her dress swished around her feet, fingers worrying the cuffs. The awe of being here was beginning to tarnish slightly. If that was how the other Asgardians treated Loki, with barely concealed disdain and dismissiveness, what were they really like? To treat a prince like that...Hermione understood that not everyone would like him, but to see it from Sif was different from hearing it from Loki's lips.</p>
<p>Looking back, she could see the same expression on the faces of almost everyone they passed. Up ahead, it was the same. Her blood boiled. She knew that he lived in Thor's shadow; her source was the closest one could get. The other sides of the story lived in her head, not wanting to have one biased point of view. This, though...it reminded her of how people glared at her during her first year at Hogwarts.</p>
<p>She calmed her thoughts as Loki caught up to her, sending him a comforting glance. He stayed silent, looking ahead, still guiding her through the maze-like palace.</p>
<p>"If I may ask, why did you elect to stay with me? You would usually jump at the chance to learn more. It wouldn't have been a hassle for me to send someone to fetch you when it was our turn."</p>
<p>"Knowledge can come later," she huffed. "I am not comfortable with the way she treated you. It reminded me of my first year at Hogwarts." A sigh, then, "As important as knowledge is to me, my friends always come first. Even if you don't consider me that, I do consider you one of my friends. One of my stranger ones, but a friend nonetheless. And I stick by my friends. It's what others have done for me."</p>
<p>Loki was silent for a minute, before saying, "Thank you. Not many people have said that to me."</p>
<p>"Well, I guess I'm going to have to make up for a thousand years of it, aren't I? Starting right, now."</p>
<p>"I guess so," Loki contemplated.</p>
<p>"Good. Now, let us wait for the Allfather, and then you can surprise him, eh."</p>
<p>As she walked slightly ahead of him, Hermione didn't see the slight frown playing on his lips, how his forehead creased from guilt.</p><hr/>
<p>After a surprisingly short wait, Hermione and Loki were invited into the grand throne room. Murals decorated the ceiling, grand pillars framing the walk up to a gilded, golden throne where a formidable bearded man sat. In his hand a staff (Gungnir, she told herself) was held, an eyepatch covering his right eye.</p>
<p>
  <em>Odin.</em>
</p>
<p>The air of power radiating around the throne room was heavy, unlike anything she'd ever felt. The Bifrost was now an ant next to an elephant. As she drew closer the eyes of the guards followed her every move. Assessing her as a threat, she told herself.</p>
<p>She fell into a deep curtsey as Loki instructed her to do. Knees wobbling, Hermione stayed down until Odin's booming voice told her to rise. As elegantly as possible, she did, trying desperately to disguise the tremors wracking her limbs. All she could focus on was the man in front of her, thousands of years old and with the battle scars to prove it.</p>
<p>"Loki, my son. Who is this young lady you have brought before me? I don't recognise her as a citizen of Asgard." He was...curious? Hermione couldn't tell through her nerves. "Is she hailing from another realm?"</p>
<p>"Indeed she is, Father." The title was said with incredible amounts of respect.</p>
<p>"And which realm is that?"</p>
<p>There was a slight pause before Loki uttered, "Midgard."</p>
<p>A frosty silence filled the throne room. Hermione immediately looked to the floor, hiding her sweating palms in the folds of her dress. The legends of Odin's fury were nothing compared to the actual thing, even if this was barely anything. She could feel his eyes on Loki, on her, hear the slight creak as his grip tightened on Gungnir.</p>
<p>"And why, may I ask, is she here? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't wipe her memory and send her back to Midgard this instant. You know the rules surrounding bringing mortals to Midgard, Loki."</p>
<p>Hermione trembled. Having her memory erased was something she hadn't even considered. Losing all she knew about this wondrous place, little as it was, horrified her.</p>
<p>"There is something special about her, Father." A gentle hand fell on her arm. "Hermione, if you wouldn't mind demonstrating?" Loki's face was reassuring, calming a small part of the storm inside. Her wand fell into her hand, mentally preparing.</p>
<p>She raised her wand, pointing it at Loki. They discussed this while they were waiting. He would be the 'test subject' as he so aptly put it, for once willing to have magic performed on him. Tongue leaden and dry, she struggled to get the words out, the two words that would change her life.</p>
<p>"<em>Wingardium Leviosa.</em>" It surged forwards, invisible tendrils lifting Loki off of the ground. She silently thanked her practice at lifting heavier objects. Otherwise, this would have been impossible.</p>
<p>Loki hung in the air for a few seconds before she let him down. Wordlessly, she tucked her wand away again, not daring to look back at Odin. <em>The Allfather, </em>she reminded herself. One of the most powerful beings in the universe and she was standing right in front of him.</p>
<p>"I see," was all Odin said.</p>
<p>"The mortal magic users of Midgard are still alive, Father. They're thriving, have communities and enclaves all over their realm. They have their own governments, schools, everything you could imagine. All these years―"</p>
<p>"Loki, stop." Odin held up a hand. Loki stopped talking. "I must admit, this is a surprise. How they managed to hide for so many years is indeed a mystery that I now intend to investigate. How long have you known?"</p>
<p>"For six years, Father."</p>
<p>"And how long has this young woman known of us?" Hermione started at being mentioned.</p>
<p>"She figured it all out herself."</p>
<p>"I see. What is your name?"</p>
<p>"Hermione Granger, your majesty." Speaking only when spoken to. All the books she read when she was younger, going through her 'royalty phase' were finally coming in handy, mixing with Loki's advice.</p>
<p>"What do you think of Asgard?"</p>
<p>Hermione swallowed. She mustn't ramble. "It is the most beautiful place I have ever seen. I've never encountered such beauty, your majesty. Being here is an honour. I respectfully understand if it is required to wipe my memories." Of course, she desperately hoped it wouldn't be needed.</p>
<p>"No such thing will be needed today." Hermione, on the inside, fist-pumped the air. "You have brought us a gift, the gift of the knowledge of your people. Later, I will ask you about them." She curtseyed again, nodding slightly. He turned back to Loki. "Now, Loki. Why did you think it was appropriate to withhold your knowledge for such an extended period of time?"</p>
<p>"I was gathering knowledge of their people. Hermione here proved to be a wonderful source of firsthand knowledge that I couldn't find in books and by observing their people. She is fascinating." He started talking faster, enthusiasm oozing. "She's been an invaluable resource in helping me gain a better understanding of magic on Midgard. The way her magic works is like nothing I've ever seen before. Studying her has been incredible, gaining knowledge of her people through her has been my most exciting project for centuries!"</p>
<p>Hermione froze. <em>An invaluable resource? </em>A resource. Was that...no, he was still speaking. That couldn't be true.</p>
<p>"Of course, there was only so much I could learn from her, Father."</p>
<p>"I see. And you waited this long to present a solid case to me? If so, if all you needed was your words, why did you bring her to Asgard?"</p>
<p>"As evidence of magic, of course."</p>
<p>
  <em>Evidence.</em>
</p>
<p>Not a mention of their friendship. Surely, the Allfather would know of it already, from their interactions and her using magic on him. Mentioning it wouldn't be too hard. It was three words, 'we are friends.' Was that all he thought of her? A tool to be thrown away? <em>Evidence.</em></p>
<p>"Is that all you think of me? An invaluable resource? Evidence?" She looked him dead in the eyes, brown against green, glaring daggers. "You said that you studied me. How long have you been watching me, not making an appearance? Is this what you think of me? A resource?" She took several steps closer. "I thought we were friends."</p>
<p>"We are. Where are these ideas coming from?"</p>
<p>"From what you just said, Odinson. You spoke of me as if I am nothing more than a thing. A thing for you to use to further your life, to help you gain more." Tears began pricking at her eyes, voice rising in pitch. "You know my history with friends!"</p>
<p>"Hermione, calm down."</p>
<p>
  <em>Evidence.</em>
</p>
<p>"No!" she spat. "Don't tell me to calm down when you waltz in here and speak of me as if I am a science project! You don't talk about your friends like that. You never speak of anyone like that. Tell me," she growled, "is our friendship even genuine? How long has it been since you started seeing me as a project?"</p>
<p>"It's genuine, don't twist my wo―"</p>
<p>"Don't lie to me, Odinson." Loki flinched back at the venom in her tone. "Don't treat me like I know nothing. I figured out who you were, didn't I? I'm not stupid. Now, tell me the truth."</p>
<p>Odin stayed silent, observing the argument with mild interest.</p>
<p>"Just let me talk for a minute!" Loki shouted. "You're taking my words out of my mouth and twisting them into something else. Of course, we are friends. Would a friend have left you behind in the dreary old house? Would a friend have taught you new forms of magic?"</p>
<p>"A friend doesn't talk about someone else like that. Don't lie to me." Tears were now freely streaming down her face. "Please, tell me the truth. You may be called Liesmith but I have been lied to enough to know when someone isn't telling the truth. You don't go through years of being told that students like you, that the teachers are fond of you, that people actually want to know you, without learning a few hard lessons. They all wanted something, just like you.</p>
<p>"You may not see it as wrong, but I do. You <em>used me</em>. I would have been happy to help you, in fact, I did. I helped you, I thought I trusted you. But then you come in here and talk like that...How could you?"</p>
<p>Loki didn't say anything.</p>
<p>"I'm leaving." Without looking at Loki, she curtseyed once more. "Thank you for your hospitality, your majesty. I apologise for my outburst."</p>
<p>She turned tail and strode away from the pair. Her hands trembled, heart-ripping in two.</p>
<p>Trust.</p>
<p>
  <em>Ha.</em>
</p>
<p>What was that worth, when Loki shattered it in seconds with words sharper than knives? The days of being used were long behind her, she used to think. Used to dream. That couldn't be further from the truth.</p>
<p>
  <em>Evidence.</em>
</p>
<p>As soon as the doors shut behind her, she was sprinting through the halls. The entrance had to be somewhere, if she just looked for long enough, surely she would find it. Get out. She had to get out of this place. No longer did she want to be here, no longer did she want to gaze in awe at the golden palace. All it held was a bitter taste in her mouth and betrayal in her heart. If she could never come back, it would be too soon.</p>
<p>"Hey, are you alright?" A deep rumbling voice cut through her despair. Strong hands came down on her shoulder, gentle but firm. Through her tears, Hermione could see a red cape and golden hair. "What happened?"</p>
<p>"I don't want to talk about it," Hermione hiccupped, frantically wiping her eyes. "Please, can you just show me to the Bifrost? I want to go home."</p>
<p>"Of course. Where may home be?" Now that she could see, vision no longer blurred, she took in the face of an impossibly tall man. Blue cornflower eyes, shining hair and a hammer hanging at his waist...oh.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry, your majesty. I didn't recognise you."</p>
<p>"Seeing as you're from another realm, that can be forgiven. Which realm, if I may ask again?"</p>
<p>"Oh." She hiccupped, cursing her roiling emotions. "Earth. Midgard. Whatever you call it."</p>
<p>"That's certainly not what I was expecting. Of course, I can show you to the Bifrost. I assume my father knows?"</p>
<p>"Yes, he is aware of me leaving."</p>
<p>"Without an escort?"</p>
<p>"I don't want to see <em>him.</em>"</p>
<p>"Here, follow me. I'll take you with my friends and you'll be home in no time. Who upset you so?"</p>
<p>Hermione faltered, not expecting such kindness after what happened. Right now, everything was miserable, every one an adder waiting to strike, waiting to use her for their own gain with poisoned words and inviting eyes.</p>
<p>"I'd rather not talk about it if that's alright with you."</p>
<p>"No matter." Thor started walking, guiding you through the halls. "Would you like me to talk about something else?"</p>
<p>"Please."</p>
<p>Thor was...nice. He had an ego on him so tall she couldn't see the peak, but he was nice to her. He regaled her with grand tales of his battles, omitting the particularly gruesome details after she shuddered at him ripping a dragon's throat out. She knew he was arrogant and brash. It didn't matter right now. It wasn't like she was going to be coming back anytime soon.</p>
<p>Somewhere along the way, Sif and Fandral joined them. The chatter was mindless and before Hermione knew it, she was standing inside the Bifrost, preparing to travel home. It would place her just outside Grimmauld Place. Close enough.</p>
<p>"It was a pleasure to meet you, Hermione," Thor said. "I hope that we meet again."</p>
<p>"Thank you for your help."</p>
<p>"It was the least I could do for a maiden as lovely as yourself."</p>
<p>She waved farewell to them, left alone with Heimdall. He offered her a small smile. "If you ever come back, I should look forward to meeting you again, Miss Granger."</p>
<p>The rainbow lights surrounded her, now filled with despair. She was hollow, landing outside Grimmauld place in a pile of fabric and tears.</p>
<p>And if anyone asked where she was or why her eyes were red and puffy, she offered them a watery smile and disappeared to her room.</p>
<p>It would take a long time for her to trust again.</p><hr/>
<p>Loki pushed his food around the plate. The day was a disaster. Hermione stormed off irrationally, now Thor was late for dinner, and his mother was sending him disapproving glances. His chance of impressing his father was marred by Hermione collapsing into a pathetic pile of tears. He thought she was better than that, could actually sustain rational thought, rather than being consumed by rage.</p>
<p>Thor finally entered the room, stormy. Nothing new, then. Just another dinner.</p>
<p>"Loki." He looked up, sneering at Thor. He didn't have time for pleasantries. "What's this with that lovely maiden Hermione? What did you do?"</p>
<p>"Nothing that concerns you," he said bitterly.</p>
<p>Of course. It all came back to Thor. His golden brother who could do no wrong.</p>
<p>Typical.</p><hr/>
<p>
  <strong>1997</strong>
</p>
<p>Cold air viciously bit at Hermione. She pulled the ratty blanket closer around her body, recasting the warming charm. It wasn't working particularly well for some reason, so she was left with the blanket, occasional chills running through her. Snow settled delicately in her hair, great branches of the canopy above creaking with the weight of it. The Forest of Dean, frigid as it was, was remote enough that nobody would think to look. Combined with the wards, it was a perfect hiding place.</p>
<p>With her back against a thick tree, tucked up inside the roots, she was in the perfect place to spot intruders. Harry was slumbering in the tent behind her, catching up on precious sleep. He worked himself to the bone. She was the same. Both of them were exhausted. Sleeping for eternity was an inviting prospect, one that Hermione wasn't sure she could refuse if offered. Though, there was something...calming about being the only one around for miles in a forest. The ambient noises were like something out of a children's storybook, only the light of her torch (really a wand) to guide her.</p>
<p>Sighing, Hermione turned the next page of her book, ignoring the way her fingers shook through her gloves. Damn the cold, damn the warming charm not working. Of all the times, it had to be now. It wasn't like magic to just stop working. Especially not with small spells like this. She practised this one over and over, had been using it actively since her second year. Perhaps there was something wrong with her, or the charm related to exhaustion? There were theories floating around…</p>
<p>A flash of green caught her eyes. With a sharp intake of breath, Hermione snapped her book shut and sat upright, wand clutched tight. Her fingers traced the intricate vine carvings, heart picking up pace. She knew that flash of green. The forest replied to her silent questions with the same creaking, rustling melody. Not a word escaped her lips. Only one being, one person, was associated with a light of that sort.</p>
<p>Loki.</p>
<p>
  <em>Evidence.</em>
</p>
<p>She gritted her teeth, all the old hurt and betrayal flooding straight back in. After nearly three years, it wasn't as strong and it used to be. It was still there, lurking at the back of her mind no matter how hard she worked to banish it. True, looking back, her storming out was rash, barely letting Loki speak. The agony of the moment caused her to act without thinking, rather than using her words. It still didn't excuse how Loki treated her, nor how she felt afterwards, but perhaps if she had stayed…</p>
<p>No. Those traitorous thoughts were years old. There was no use dwelling on them now. What was done was done, no changing it. No time turners, they were all smashed. No way to get to Asgard without announcing her presence. Going back there wouldn't be too bad, so long as she could avoid Loki.</p>
<p>Hermione bit her lip. These warring perspectives weren't anything new.</p>
<p>She was interrupted from her brooding (not that she would ever, ever call it that. It was deep thinking, never brooding) by feather-light footsteps. Without looking up, she knew who it was. He was back, approaching her like she was a skittish cat. Of course, he would treat her like that….no, no, bad thoughts. Let him explain himself first, it had been a long time. A long, long time.</p>
<p>Surprisingly, he sat down on a knobby root near her. His long limbs folded awkwardly over each other. He clearly wasn't used to sitting down on roots in the middle of a freezing forest. Sure, Hermione was new to it as well, but her small size lent well to tucking into nooks.</p>
<p>He said, "I've already taken care of the silencing ward, there's no need to worry about your friend waking up," as Hermione raised her wand to cast one. She couldn't ignore the slight waver in his voice at the word <em>friend. </em>Huh. Wasn't like him to let his true emotions show, she thought ruefully. Supposedly he was the 'Silver-tongued Loki of Asgard' "I'll also stop interfering with your warming charm if you would like it."</p>
<p>"Asshole!" Hermione hissed as a wave of warmth finally enveloped her. She drew the blanket tighter around her, though, as if it was a shield. "What's the point of doing that? I swear, if this was another test, I will turn you into a beatle and keep you in a jar. I've done it before and won't hesitate to do it a second time."</p>
<p>If looks could kill, Loki would be dead. He wisely stayed silent, letting Hermione continue to glare daggers.</p>
<p>All the past years of frustration, despair and betrayal were leaking out, finally coming back to the forefront. Not talking to anyone about it was incredibly hard. Crookshanks, as excellent as the cat was at listening, didn't talk back. No one was likely to believe her if she told them, anyway. Their brief dismissal would be hiding whispers of, 'Has she finally gone mad, after all these years?'</p>
<p>There were brief moments where she considered telling Harry and Ron but decided against it. Harry, because the amount of pressure resting on his shoulders was astronomical and Ron, because of his tendency to place blame without hearing the entire story. If he knew she hid something from her all these years...it would be Crookshanks and Scabbers a million times over.</p>
<p>Despite the lack of talking, Loki still met Hermione's eyes head-on. Occasionally they flickered up and down, taking in her warring face and hunched body posture. She knew he was reading her, deducing things, knowing what she would think before he even thought it. The master manipulator, and here she was allowing him to sit opposite her, not firing every gruesome spell off at him with reckless abandon.</p>
<p>The stalemate continued for what seemed like forever. Hermione, with her narrow eyes and white-knuckled grip on her wand, and Loki with his languid posture and infuriating examination.</p>
<p>Then, it all changed. Loki opened his mouth and began to speak, words spilling out as if they'd been building up for years. Spun sweet as sugar, saccharine, drenched in falsehoods meant for those who couldn't see through his lies.</p>
<p>"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm truly sorry. I saw you as a means to an end, forgetting that you were a person in my fervour to impress my father, to discover something before my brother. In my quest for approval, I let my desire for attention override common sense and decency, which lead to you believing that I didn't consider you as a friend. I know you're going to find this hard to believe, and I don't blame you a bit if you don't, but I consider you a friend. You're actually my only friend." He laughed bitterly. "On Asgard, I wasn't considered the type to associate with for normal revelry.</p>
<p>"I realise now that what I did was wholly wrong and all I can do is ask for your forgiveness." He took a fortifying breath. "I understand if you don't want to see me again."</p>
<p>Hermione had been staring at him with growing incredulity and anger, the barking laugh that bubbled up having nothing to do with mirth. "You think that an apology is going to get me to forgive you?" <em>Evidence. </em>"After all these years, you waltz back and think some fancy words will undo hurt?" She shook her head. "I hate to break it to you, but it won't work." <em>Let him explain himself, Hermione. </em>"You're going to have to do something more than that." <em>Give him a chance, at least.</em></p>
<p>"I know that how I treated you wasn't optimal―"</p>
<p>"Oh, stop it! Stop with the speeches," she hissed. "Tell me how you really feel, dammit. Be honest for once! Stop your posturing and talk to me!</p>
<p>He fixed her with that damned smile, so false and yet so genuine. Could she even tell which was which anymore? "Hermione―"</p>
<p>Once again, she viciously shot him down. The urge to strike him was overwhelming, growing with every second she kept her eyes on him. "I don't have time for you to come here and waste it with practised, empty words. I'm not your mirror, goddamit."</p>
<p>A frosty silence fell, thick in the air. For a moment, he sat there. Did nothing, said nothing. If there was a war going on inside his head, she couldn't tell. His face gave nothing away, nothing at all. What she wouldn't give to see what was going on inside. No longer could she tell if things were real or not. Was he being genuine?</p>
<p>She waited.</p>
<p>He opened his mouth, then closed it, another one of those damned smiles creeping up, before she snarled out, "Don't."</p>
<p>The smile slid away. "I'm the God of Lies, not truth." The words sounded choked, forced, unfamiliar.</p>
<p>"Then you should leave."</p>
<p>"I...I don't think I want to." In that moment he sounded so small she thought it must have been true.</p>
<p>For a long while, he sat with his head bowed and hands clasped. When he looked up, the shadows under his eyes had never been deeper. "What else do you want me to say? I've apologised, I don't...I don't know what else to give you.</p>
<p>"Should I retell how my father favours Thor? Or how my mother is my only confidant? That she is the one who bade I come back here to confront you? Trust me, this isn't where I wish to be." He was silent for a moment that seemed to drag on for hours. "I must admit to myself, though, that at the end of the day I do miss how our friendship used to be."</p>
<p>He looked away, utterly uncomfortable.</p>
<p>Hermione bit her lip. He suddenly looked like a completely different person. A real vulnerability swirled around him, not the false fragility of a trickster god.</p>
<p>There were so many things she wanted to say to him. At first, she just wanted him to hurt. To feel the same pain she felt, to feel anything at all. She'd wanted to make a god bleed, and would have laughed at the crimson coating her hand. Wanted it so badly she never noticed he already was.</p>
<p>"Same," she whispered just as scared to admit it to herself as he was. Scared that if she let him back in the whole process would repeat itself. And maybe, just maybe, that's what he was scared of too.</p>
<p>"Do you...do you want to...talk about it, perhaps?" Loki's voice was so awkward, so unsure that Hermione's lips began to twitch at the corners.</p>
<p>"Maybe that could help?" To her surprise, her own voice mirrored his. Uncomfortable, stilted, in the middle of not knowing what to say.</p>
<p>"Well, go ahead, then. I'll listen to whatever you have to say."</p>
<p>She opened her mouth to talk, but nothing came out. She could hear crickets in her mind, see Loki waiting for her response. In the end, she sighed and said:</p>
<p>"Look, things won't be the same as they were before. They can't be. We'll have to take it slow." She took a deep breath, burying that ugly monster rearing its head. "But, I would be willing to start anew if you would like. So, nice to meet you, Loki Odinson."</p>
<p>She stuck out her hand. Loki took it in a firm grip. Neither of them shook. Their hands remained locked, a fierce gesture, a gateway to many promises, many threats. The motion to restart their relationship and lead them into the future.</p>
<p>"Nice to meet you too, Hermione Granger."</p>
<p>And so they talked, awkward as can be, until the sun began peeking over the horizon. The sounds of a disgruntled waking Harry could be heard through the silencing ward. Loki offered a hasty goodbye, whisking himself off into the distance in the blink of an eye and a promise to return the following night.</p>
<p>As she returned to the tent, she couldn't help a small smile.</p>
<p>The first step to fixing everything, the first stitch in the gaping wound, was complete. It would take a long time, but maybe things could go back to being better. The weeks after would prove this and she couldn't help but feel a small warmth in her chest rekindling with every conversation they had.</p><hr/>
<p>"I'm going to have to leave for an extended period of time. Perhaps three years. My father has been catching onto my frequent visits here, even when I use pathways that aren't the Bifrost. The last thing I want to do is lead him back to you." Loki stood in front of her, months later, as if he was delivering news of a death in the family.</p>
<p>Hermione barely reacted. Typical. Just as they were beginning to seriously reconnect, something like this came up. But, after all she had told him these last months, she understood. With how often he'd been coming to visit, it was a miracle this hadn't happened sooner.</p>
<p>"That's okay. I understand how things can be. Not your exact circumstances," she hurriedly said, "but those things can be hard." She took a step back. "I'll see you again one day, Loki Odinson. But understand this. If you ever betray me again, I will turn you into a beatle, understood? The threat still stands."</p>
<p>Loki chuckled. "Touche, little witch. Touche."</p>
<p>He disappeared in a flash of green light and Hermione smiled.</p>
<p>
  <em>To the future.</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey, first chapter, woop!</p><p>I also have a discord server, if you wanted to join that :D </p><p>https://discord.gg/uf6YFgdmgr </p><p>Until next time,<br/>Mariadoria</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"A while, you say? We have been here for an hour already and you haven't improved in the slightest." He glanced over at something. "There is a child rink if you can't manage this one." He bent down. "Perhaps you'd be better at home over there."</p><p>"You're the child if you think I'm going to give up so easily." She thrust a threatening finger at him. "I will become good at this and show you up one day!"</p><p>"Keep telling yourself that, maybe one day you'll believe it." And off he went again, fast as a bullet. Hermione was left standing awkwardly, arms out for balance, unable to move without acquainting her face with the floor. This was utterly humiliating. Why in Merlin's name did she agree to not use any magic? A simple balancing charm and she would be set to skate. But no, she was floundering around.</p><p>Absolutely typical.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger Warnings at the end of the chapter, if ya want them.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>2000</strong>
</p><p>Feather quills scratched across fresh parchment, combining with quiet sighs and the tapping of feet. The strained, exhausted symphony filled the small room. False windows, enchanted to look over a 'morale-boosting' meadow, cast light over the workers hunched over desks. Hair was smartly pulled back. Best clothes were worn. Shoes gleamed.</p><p>The work was mind-numbingly dull.</p><p>That stood true for even the dumbest of workers. Their eyes fuzzed in and out of focus, barely bothering to return to the task. Thoughts of abandoning the work weren't uncommon. What if they just... got up and walked out? Surely, it wouldn't hurt them that much. Or, what if they didn't turn up to work one day, took one glorious day off? Used it to enjoy the pleasures of life previously taken for granted. Food, or going on a simple walk through a forest to hear the birds sing. Wouldn't that simply be lovely, to be free from the monotony?</p><p>If that's what it was like for the average, then Hermione Granger, tucked cleverly away in a corner where no one could look over her shoulder, was just about ready to leap from the false windows. She'd find a way, somehow. Almost anything was possible with magic after all.</p><p>Her mantra for the last four months?</p><p>'I shouldn't have done this.'</p><p>Months ago, after she received her Order of Merlin, First Class, she was given the opportunity to take a high ranking position within the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She refused, deciding to work her way up. Special treatment was good sometimes, she used to think, but she wanted to start from the bottom, sewing little seeds of change on the way up.</p><p>If only she'd taken the position, then she wouldn't be trapped in this never-ending loop, doing admin work for those too lazy to even acknowledge she existed. Hermione Granger, the war hero? Oh, sure, she was known everywhere, her face often plastered over the front of magazines and newspapers, proclaiming that they 'never were against Muggleborns.' But Hermione Granger, the lowly worker who filled out slips about changing the type of tea? No, she was overlooked just as everyone else would be.</p><p>Changes would have to be made, and soon. Four months had already passed and nothing had been made to combat anything the abhorrent department stood for. If she wanted to do anything, it couldn't be done from a desk in the corner of a stuffy room.</p><p>"Come on, nearly there," she muttered to herself. The department issued quill in her hand, devoid of any enchantments that could be used for cheating or 'other unseemly activities' twitched as her hand stopped moving for a second. The cramps knotting up her arm screamed at her. Just a little spell would soothe them. Unfortunately, there was a strict no wand policy. "Typical."</p><p>"I know the feeling," hissed her neighbour Marcy. With curly black hair and stunning dark skin, she was fit to be modelling for magazines like Witch Weekly, not stuck in a dreary job. It was her dream, yet here she was. Bills had to be paid someway until she graced the covers. "This is the worst thing I could be doing."</p><p>"Tell me about it. I'd rather drink a draught of living death than be here any longer." Marcy covered her mouth, stifling a snort. Hermione smiled slightly. Marcy was quite often the only thing keeping her sane.</p><p>"Well, there's only a few hours left in the day," she sympathised. "I can't wait to get home. I've got a casserole going, and then I'm going out dancing. Great evening, if you ask me." Marcy bent closer to her parchment, scribbling away faster as if it would get her out of here quicker. "It's a beef one, my mum taught me. She's coming over from America next month. You wanna meet her?"</p><p>"If she's anything like you, I would love to."</p><p>"She's quite a bit tougher. Doesn't take any nonsense." Marcy sighed, putting her quill down and rubbing her wrist. "She'd tell me to get out of here. She'd do the same for you."</p><p>"I'm coming close to the end of my rope, honestly. I don't know how much more of this I can take."</p><p>"I'm not surprised. You're Hermione Granger, I thought you'd be off researching some obscure magic and using it to help people." Hermione glowered at Marcy. "I know you hate me doing that, but it's true. You shouldn't be here."</p><p>"No one should."</p><p>"But especially you. I know you well, I've been over to your house. This isn't where you're meant to be. You're meant for more. Tell me again, what are your friends doing?"</p><p>Hermione always appreciated how Marcy referred to Harry and Ron as, well, her friends. She didn't speak of them with any sort of reverence, instead choosing to treat them as people. It was one of the reasons they liked her. "Well, Ron is working at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes with George and training to be an Auror. Harry's training to be a Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. And I'm...here."</p><p>"Exactly." Marcy twirled her quill. "You're meant for more than this, so go and make yourself happy. Like with that Organisation you've started up. I haven't missed it, and I think it's brilliant. It makes you happy, and you should be doing something that makes you happy. You certainly have the resources for it." She stopped twirling, looking intensely at Hermione. "You have nothing to prove to anyone by working your way up from the bottom."</p><p>Hermione's eyebrows crinkled. Those sharp words swirled around her head, bouncing off the sides, colliding with one another. Surely she couldn't have been that much of a fool, wasted that much time trying to prove something that no one even cared about.</p><p>Right?</p><p>She groaned, suddenly finding her head in her hands. "I can't believe myself. I've been wasting away here!"</p><p>"Good to know you finally see my side of the argument, o Great Hermione Granger," Marcy snorted.</p><p>"Don't you dare—"</p><p>"Of course, Mighty One."</p><p>"Granger, Belmont! Shut up and get back to work!" demanded their rotund boss, whose stomach preceded him when he wobbled his way around corners. "I don't pay you to act like ninny schoolgirls." He popped back into his office, on his way to eat more muggle chocolate that he paid a grand sum for.</p><p>Though they giggled more, they did settle down, shooting smiles at each other.</p><p>Strangely, the next two hours flew by for Hermione. The instant the clock struck five o'clock, she shot up, giving Marcy a quick hug and whispering thanks in her ear. Then, she was out of the building like a shot, pushing through the bustling crowds to the Apparition Points.</p><p>As she turned a corner towards the point, she stopped abruptly, the back of her neck prickling. Someone was watching her. Not in the normal, 'oh Merlin, it's Hermione Granger way.' No, this was in the sort of way that made her heart pick up in speed, the kind of instinct honed by the war.</p><p>She whipped around, eyes scanning the crowd. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Just the usual crowd of exhausted workers dressed in drab clothes. Feet shuffling, briefcases clutched tight.</p><p>Still taking note of it, Hermione continued to the point. She knew never to ignore those feelings, they were never fake. She trusted her gut.</p><p>Always had, always would.</p>
<hr/><p>With a loud crack, Hermione appeared in her living room. The warm colours, with little pieces of red and gold strategically and sneakily placed around it, were a sight for sore eyes.</p><p>Quite literally.</p><p>Her eyes ached with barely concealed exhaustion.</p><p>Ron, who got home before her on Thursdays, could be heard knocking around the kitchen. After Molly (it was still rather strange to be calling her that) decided that Ron ought to know how to cook, he took to it like a duck to water. Quite often, Hermione needed to drag him out of the kitchen. It became a common joke between them that he loved cooking more than his family.</p><p>"I'm home," she called, flopping down into a seat without any pomp to speak of. Elegance and decorum could be reserved for another day. One where she didn't feel like tearing her brain out because of her own near-sightedness and stupidity. "At last."</p><p>"Was there a lot of traffic in the atrium?" Ron yelled over his vigorous whisking. "Thursday is a busy day. Luckily I get out before the rush."</p><p>"No, I used one of the side apparition points. Was still busy, though. Just a long, boring day again." She paused, fiddling with a loose thread on the arm of the chair. "Couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me, though." She pulled out her wand, muttering a charm that would bring her eyes back to a state where they weren't burning. The same was done for her throbbing wrists. With a sigh, she leaned back, enjoying how soft the armchair was.</p><p>"You sure it wasn't an overzealous fan?" The whisking stopped. "I get a lot of those, 'specially with the articles the Prophet and Witch Weekly are pumping out. It's all, 'The Starcrossed Lovers of Hogwarts have Moved in Together.'" Hermione could almost hear him shuddering. "Honestly, reminds me of Lavender times ten."</p><p>Hermione snorted, "That's not good. And no, it was different. Not quite dangerous, but there's something about it I can't quite put my finger on. I'm going to keep an eye on it. Better safe than sorry."</p><p>"Agreed." Clattering suddenly filled the apartment. "You know what's also better than sorry?" Ron blasted forward before Hermione even had a chance to answer. With a dramatic flair, he burst out of the kitchen carrying a tray. The smell wafting over to her was mouthwatering. "Blueberry muffins, my own recipe. I tried one earlier, they're the best."</p><p>"Way to talk yourself up." She plucked a muffin off the tray, taking a bite of it. "Keep talking yourself up, these are the best."</p><p>"Told you." He placed the tray down on the coffee table, sitting down opposite Hermione. A few months ago, she would have questioned having ten muffins between the two of them. Not anymore. She would happily eat until she was full, especially after a day like today. "Want to vent about work?"</p><p>"Not really. There isn't much to say. I had a talk with Marcy today and she made me realise that I've been utterly stupid. I should be somewhere else, making change happen, not sitting in a stuffy room getting wrist cramps. What have I been doing with my life, Ron?" she lamented, head in hands. "I've just been wasting time that could be spent elsewhere. I have my whole life ahead of me and I chose to spend it doing the completely wrong thing!"</p><p>"So you finally realised?"</p><p>"Excuse me?"</p><p>"I've been trying to tell you for months you shouldn't be there, but you were determined to stay there. I gave up on it eventually. You're the cleverest person I know, I figured you'd figure it out eventually."</p><p>"So I was the last person to realise?"</p><p>"Pretty much, yeah."</p><p>Hermione snatched another muffin, biting down into it. "I can't believe it. Well, I'm going to change it. I won't stand for this any longer."</p><p>"That's my girl," Ron whooped. "What are you wanting to do?"</p><p>That stopped her short. "I haven't thought that far ahead. Something to do with researching, and something where I'm not confined to a desk all day. Learning more about magic is my dream. I would be in paradise."</p><p>Ron perked up, eyes gleaming. "Well, I heard from a coworker about a position that's opened up recently. He was laughing about how nobody is going to go for it, a shame really. I never liked him." He grimaced. "It honestly sounds perfect for you. I'd riot if you didn't get it."</p><p>"Oh? Do share." She leaned forward, interest piqued.</p><p>"It's a researcher position at the Department for Research of Magic thingies…" he trailed off lamely. "I can't remember the full name."</p><p>Hermione, however, knew the full name. "The Department for the Research of Rare and Archaic Magicks and Spells? You've got to be kidding me." Excitement began to fizz through her veins</p><p>"You think I would kid about something like this? I'm telling the full truth. Would go under Veritaserum to prove it, honest to Merlin."</p><p>"Oh my word, this is perfect. How long has it been open? This is going to be my way forward! The possibilities are endless. The things I could do." She leapt up. "That's it. No more languishing in the past. I'm going to move forward and make something of myself outside of the war. I'm going to discover new magic and make new spells. This is going to be absolutely incredible."</p><p>"If you get the job," Ron said carefully.</p><p>"If I get the job?" scoffed Hermione. "I can't think like that. I'm going to get the job, nothing else to be said." Her hands flailed madly, a depiction of her immense excitement. "I've got to go and get my resume ready. I haven't updated it since I finished school. I'm going to go do that, I'll cook dinner tomorrow, sorry, I know that was our deal, but I'm going to get a new job!"</p><p>Ron's guffaw could barely be heard between the ringing in her ears. The opportunities were presenting themselves one after the other. A realisation, then a chance.</p><p>Tomorrow was going to be the day to change her life.</p>
<hr/><p>Her hair was pulled back into a smart bun at the nape of her neck, slicked down to avoid any 'unprofessional' poofing. A bright light shone in through the artificial windows, glinting off her silver earrings and smart bracelet. The clothes she wore were far more formal than usual, put together and engineered so as to create the best first impression possible: professional, hard-working, no-nonsense and ready to put her all into the work.</p><p>"You've got this," she muttered to herself, quickly casting the anti-cramp spell. The only time she could find to hand in her resume was after work hours, so her brain was practically dead already. It was a fight just to stay aware, keep the passion alive.</p><p>But the thought of the job (that she was absolutely going to get, thank you very much) lit a spark in her brain, a spark absent for the last few months. A void was going to be filled in a few short weeks and she couldn't wait to see the look on her bosses face as she handed in her resignation. Finally, she would be the one wearing a smug, saccharine smile as she told him where to shove it.</p><p>In her bag was her impeccable resume, complete with a cover letter. Every relevant thing was listed in a succinct and compact manner. <em>Perfect. </em>And just in time, as she had arrived at her destination.</p><p>She raised her quivering hand, knocking gently on the door. The sound echoed ominously. Flashes of echoing doors and spinning rooms sprang up behind her eyes, burning marks and smashed time travel. That was...strange. To associate a simple noise with her previous foray into the Department of Mysteries, something as simple as a knock on a door, wasn't normal.</p><p>This place was even better than she anticipated.</p><p>The Department for the Research of Rare and Archaic Magicks and Spells was tucked away in a place often bereft of visitors. Not known to many, the work they did was simply mind-blowing, taking old magic and turning it into something new, something beautiful. Breathing new life into death.</p><p>From what she'd heard, the work was incredibly hard. Gruelling in the best way possible. A challenge that almost had her salivating at the mouth at the mere thought of it.</p><p>Get a grip, Hermione, she thought to herself. You're getting ahead. First, go and do the job interview, then you can dream.</p><p>With a creak, the door in front of her swung open. A dust cloud rose up. Underfoot, the floorboards creaked. It was a stark contrast to the polished, well-maintained atmosphere of the rest of the Ministry. Her mind immediately jumped to a mystical old library, packed with lost scrolls just waiting to be unbound. A smile curled over her lips.</p><p>"Welcome, dear, welcome!" called a bright voice. Hermione startled, whipping around to lay eyes on a woman who looked more like a dragonfly than a human. Large glasses sat upon her spindly nose, making her eyes goggle out. Glittery scarves hung off her neck and her black hair sat piled atop her head, held up with sparkling pins. Quite the eclectic assortment of clothes but she somehow pulled it off.</p><p>Although, if Hermione didn't know better, she'd think this strange specimen of a human was the long lost relative Trelawney.</p><p>"Take a seat right over here," the woman said warmly. She gestured to a faded couch adorned with a sea of cushions. Hermione primly placed herself on the edge, ignoring the urge to tap her foot. Professionalism was the name of the game here.</p><p>"Thank you."</p><p>"Oh, no problem at all. I rarely get visitors down here, it's a pleasure." She bustled round to the back of her desk, plucking a business card out with two fingers as if she was holding a cigarette. "I'm Helena Halgarth, head of this department. Head of two people, currently, but hopefully three if we find someone suitable for this job. I'll be with you in a while, so just wait around, 'kay?" Helena handed Hermione the business card and ran out of a side door.</p><p>Silence suddenly saturated the space.</p><p>That was...a lot easier than she anticipated. With how desirable the job was, Hermione has expected a crowd, not a homey little room with the head of department/receptionist. To say her expectations had been subverted would be a gross understatement. Honestly, she wasn't complaining. Working in a small team, close-knit and hardworking, would be absolutely incredible.</p><p>As time continued to pass, Hermione fell deeper into thought, exploring every possible avenue, every single possibility and outcome that could happen. No stone was left unturned in her search.</p><p>And so, when Helena popped back into the room with a grin on her face, Hermione was staring off into space, eyes seeing something visible only to her.</p><p>"―ranger! Miss Granger?"</p><p>She startled, resume falling off her lap onto the floor.</p><p>What...oh.</p><p>Oh no.</p><p>This was not good. Not good at all. To be caught unawares at a job interview, staring at a wall, looking like a zombie. What in Merlin's name was she thinking, dreaming about different avenues? She should have written it down, instead of becoming lost inside her head. The sheer stupidity of it…</p><p>"Yes, I am so sorry, I didn't intend for that to happen." She shot up, eyebrows furrowing. "I'll make it up to you."</p><p>"No need. I completely understand. I was gone for far longer than I intended, so the fault is all mine." Hermione deflated. "Now, if you will follow me through, we can commence the interview."</p><p>"Of course, and thank you for understanding," Hermione said. Keeping the embarrassment from flooding onto her face was nigh impossible.</p><p>"Oh, no worries at all. To be honest, I'm just glad someone turned up for the interview. Barely anyone knows about us, so when Genevieve left, I thought it was for the worst. I have three more people after you, so there's a pretty high chance of you getting the job." Helena, as it turned out, was chatty in the best way possible. She almost vomited words. "I'm giving everyone a fair chance, so don't expect any preferential treatment because of your well-known status, Miss Granger."</p><p>"I wouldn't have it any other way," she said.</p><p>"Perfect. Alright, just through here." Helena ushered Hermione through a door and into a small, dark room. The air weighed down on her shoulders, sharply scented, laced with magic. Hermione breathed deeply, familiarising herself with the intoxicating prickling of the air. Goosebumps on her arms picked up.</p><p><em>This </em>was what she lived for.</p><p>The smell of the unknown, the taste of knowledge nearing her tongue, the creamy texture of parchment between her fingers, the slight ringing of heavy magic, and the sight of the future drawing nearer.</p><p>If she didn't get this job, she'd kick herself for the rest of her life.</p><p>"Please, sit," said Helena. Hermione did, placing her bag down next to the leg and grabbing her resume out. It slid gently across the table, coming to rest in front of Helena.</p><p>"I will look at this after you have left, Miss Granger. There are only a few questions I want to ask you, right now, to see whether you are suited for the role. But, first I must check whether you know what the role is about. In your words, please describe it."</p><p>Last night's research flooded forward. "The position you're offering is a researcher into relics, specifically surrounding portals and magical transportation that isn't self-supplied."</p><p>"Excellent."</p><p>"What can you as an individual bring to this…"</p><p>The interview continued on from there. Helena grilled Hermione with more than a few questions, delving into her intentions, her history, asking about everything on her resume twice. For many people, this would be annoying. For Hermione, it was like a breath of fresh air, to have all of her knowledge put to use.</p><p>And then suddenly, it was done. Helena stood, Hermione doing the same, and followed her through another door, into another hallway. This one was almost swaying as they walked down it, like a ship. <em>Fascinating.</em></p><p>"Just through here." Through yet another door they went, into a winding, scrappy corridors. Helena lead her deeper and deeper into the department. All the twists and turns made Hermione hopelessly lost. No matter how much she tried to remember, everything blurred into one long curve.</p><p>Finally, they reached a large black door with an ornate golden handle. A stark contrast to the derelict halls.</p><p>"Now, would you tell me your theories on this?" Helena asked as she opened the door.</p><p>Hermione's ears fuzzed as she laid eyes on the magnificent sight in the centre of the room.</p><p>Standing proudly in front of her was a crumbling portal, an arch from ages back. Barely legible runes lay deep in the black stone, detailing things she could only dream of reading. Purple sparks danced over top of it, a slight wind swirling around the base. Her thoughts immediately jumped to the Death Chamber, <em>Sirius</em>, to the arch that sat there, so similar and yet so different. Where that one came with an ominous warning that chilled bones and made you shiver, this one whispered in your mind, drawing you ever closer, almost like it was alive.</p><p>The walls, now that she really looked, were also stone, etched with protective runes. Every few feet, wardstones jutted out. Just how powerful was this thing? To require that many precautions…it must harbour immense magical properties, indescribable danger, unknowable wonders.</p><p>"My theories," she started, taking a hesitant step forward. "How close can I get?"</p><p>"As close as you need, it won't harm you."</p><p>Hermione gently placed her back down on the floor, taking her wand out. There was no harm in being safe, being cautious. With every step she took the air became thicker.</p><p>She held her hand out, palm flat, placing it close to the arch. Energy radiated off in waves, there and then not. Pulsing. Almost as if it was...alive. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch. And the strange feeling of the magic, tendril-like, investigating her just as she was investigating it. Small voices played at the back of her mind.</p><p><em>Hermione, </em>the whispers said, <em>come and visit me. I've missed you.</em></p><p><em>Who are you? </em>She replied. <em>I don't know you.</em></p><p>
  <em>You do know me, just as I know you, I've missed you.</em>
</p><p>Hermione grit her teeth. <em>I'm going to ignore you now.</em></p><p><em>Such a shame, </em>the voice chided, oddly familiar.</p><p>Thinking aloud helped her process, so she shook her head, beginning to speak. "There are so many things I could talk about." She turned her hand, feeling a slight tickle at her fingertips. "It's almost like it's alive. That wouldn't be too much of a stretch. I can tell from the state of the arch that it's incredibly old, ancient even. Over time, certain magic has been proven to take on sentience. Mostly in inanimate objects, but the older something is, the more chance magic has of taking sentience. Take Hogwarts, for example. The castle almost seems to have a mind of its own, anyone who has been in there would know that.</p><p>"This arch, though, feels different. It seems to want to be looked at. There's this strange whisper I can hear in my head, and I just felt it tickle at my fingers." She poked her wand forward, gently tapping it on the stone. A flurry of purple and green sparks spurted outwards, causing her to jump back. "It's also extremely sensitive to outside sources of magic, which is curious, though not unheard of.</p><p>"I would say, though this isn't certain, that this has been here since before the Ministry was established. Things like these, an environment like this, doesn't appear overnight. Hogwarts is a thousand years old. I estimate that this would be of a similar age.</p><p>"It's also malfunctioning, which is why I assume you want someone researching portals, to make sure this is safe, and perhaps get it working in the future. Outside sources of transportation are rarer than people think they are and if this one could work again, it would be a massive asset to those who know about it.</p><p>"My final theory, from what you just heard, is that this is a portal of roughly nine-hundred years that has been malfunctioning and leaking magic for centuries, the runes on the walls are for protection, and you need someone qualified to research it and possibly contain it, who can also resist the whispers."</p><p>Hermione, brain whizzing, turned back to Helena. Shock painted her face like she couldn't quite believe what she just heard. A smug smile spread over Hermione's face.</p><p>"Miss Granger, that was far more than I was expecting. You've certainly given me a lot to think about." Helena gulped. "The next candidate is waiting in the reception, so I'll have to show you out. Please note, that if you are unsuccessful in obtaining the position, you will be subject to an obliviation, as much as I hate it. You also can't tell anyone what you found out today. If you do, we will know."</p><p>Well, that wasn't creepy at all, she thought sarcastically. "I completely understand, as much as I hate it too."</p><p>As they walked out, Hermione cast a wistful look at the portal. Possibly her last. Not if she could help it, but her fate was in the hands of Helena now. And if she was forced to forget, she would spend her last memories of the decrepit portal contently.</p>
<hr/><p>"Ron, I'm home! It went well-ish. Apart from my making an absolute fool of myself while I was waiting. Ron?"</p><p>As she shut the door and hung up her coat, Hermione was greeted by two things: the smell of a roast in the oven, and mighty snoring coming from the lounge. A chuckle bubbled up. Of course Ron would fall asleep while cooking.</p><p>She snuck into the lounge, laying eyes on her slumbering boyfriend. He sprawled over an armchair, never having looked more ungainly. Best to leave him to sleep. The Auror Academy was unfairly difficult. Ron worked twice as hard than he needed to, determined to come out on top. A small sleep was now rare for him.</p><p>With roast lamb, vegetables, peas and gravy piled high on her plate (after a day like today she saw no shame in being slightly greedy), she went upstairs to her study. With the money she was given alongside her Order of Merlin, living in a nice middle-of-the-road house was easy. The majority of the money was put towards founding an organisation to help magical creatures share their voices. That was something that would take a long time, something she was still working on founding.</p><p>The sight of her familiar study, stuffed bookshelves and large desk and comfy, spinning chair, was a relief. No matter how much she enjoyed the interview, coming back to a familiar space was always a relief. She flopped down into the chair. Dinner sat steaming on the desk. It smelled absolutely delectable. Though they shared cooking duties evenly, Ron was by far the better cook.</p><p>She tucked into it with gusto. As she ate her thoughts strayed to the portal. Working there would be the best thing she'd ever done outside of the war. The mere thought of studying an ancient magical relic sent an excited shiver running down her spine and sent her neck hair standing on end.</p><p>Wait.</p><p>No.</p><p>That wasn't right.</p><p><em>Someone was watching her.</em> The same person from yesterday, who she'd been on the lookout for all day. They were here in her study, past the wards. Act natural, Hermione. Act normal.</p><p>Making it look like she was adjusting her sleeve, she flicked her wand out of its arm holster and whipped around, pointing it at the person right behind her. A curse sat on her lips but died as she laid eyes on him.</p><p>"Well met, little witch," the intruder said with a grin, "you're getting better at sensing people."</p><p>What.</p><p>On.</p><p>Earth.</p><p>Loki was back, standing in her study, magic dancing at his fingertips. There was still that same smile, still the same slicked-back hair, the same clever eyes, same languid stand and arrogant tilt to his chin. Slight bags lay under his eyes. Apart from that, he was exactly the same as two years ago. Just as she remembered him.</p><p>He had said he'd be gone for two to three years. Yet now he was here and Hermione fought the urge to believe he was a madness induced hallucination. She didn't realise how much she'd missed him until he was standing right here, right now.</p><p>The watcher suddenly made sense. It was Loki. Of course, it was Loki. Who else would it be? And the voice from the portal chamber today, that oddly familiar lilt. That was him too. It all made sense now, as much as she disliked him watching her before coming to see her. It was all coming together. No wonder the watcher felt different this time.</p><p>The familiar ache in her chest that was his absence returned, now filled. It was unbelievable how much she missed him, her earliest friend. Her longest friend, despite their disagreements and arguments.</p><p>"Loki? You're back?" Hermione's mouth dropped open. Her hands quivered.</p><p>"Well, I am standing in front of you, aren't I―oh, that's quite the greeting." Hermione, ignoring her shaking, surged forward and wrapped her arms around him. It had been so long...so long. "It has certainly been a while."</p><p>"A while? It's been two years! So much has happened, we have so much to catch up on." Hermione pulled back, a thought pinging into her head. Yes, that would be good. "You stay here, I'll be right back."</p><p>She zoomed out of the room, leaving a perturbed Loki in her wake.</p><p>A minute later, she returned with a heaping plate of roast dinner, thankful that Ron always made enough food for a small army. Or, in his words, 'enough for three helpings each.' "Okay, sorry about that, I just thought you could use some food. I know that travelling through the pathways takes a lot of energy from you."</p><p>"You would be correct. This is much appreciated." Loki regally took the plate. Hermione didn't know until this moment there was a 'regal' way to take a plate. Apparently, there was.</p><p>"After all this time? I would have thought you learned better by now, Loki," she chided. "Come on, eat. We can talk while you do that. We've got so much to talk about."</p><p>"Indeed, we do." He sat down in her chair when she gestured at it. Between bites of food, he continued talking. "On both ends, I imagine. It was hard to get a window to visit you, but I managed."</p><p>"Obviously," Hermione snorts. Loki glowers at her.</p><p>"Yes, obviously. Must you dissect everything I say?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"Right then." He ate another forkful. "You go first, as I am currently occupied by this delectable dish. Give your partner my regards. His cooking is worthy of the halls of Asgard."</p><p>"Like I need to boost his ego anymore. He already thinks he's the best thing since Merlin himself."</p><p>"With food like this, he deserves to."</p><p>"Fair point." With a laugh, she conjured another chair and began telling her story of the past two years.</p><p>She told him how they won the war, how Voldemort died as a human. Of how she received the Order of Merlin and how she used the money to set up her foundation. Of the terrible job she had, her relationship with Ron and her finding the new job. Though it was only a large summary, Loki intently listened to her every word, quietly finishing up his food. It was refreshing to have someone listen who didn't interrupt at every twist and turn. He knew the exact right times to react.</p><p>It was hard to avoid the way his eyes lit up at the mention of the ancient portal she encountered today. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that her brain would be picked about it, whether it be sooner or later. Knowledge was very attractive to both of them. They flocked to it like magpies to shiny things. Anything new that could be absorbed would be absorbed. No questions about it.</p><p>Half an hour later, her story began to wind down. All that talking made her throat sore. It had been a while since she went on for that long, perhaps six months. It was refreshing.</p><p>"You've been up to a lot since I last saw you, I see," Loki commented. His food was now finished, laying off to the side. Hermione sent it downstairs with a flick of her wand. Magic was so wonderfully convenient. If she wanted, her whole life could be lived from one place.</p><p>"Indeed. It's been two years. Though that may not be much for you, it is a long time for us." A slight bite wormed into her tone. Ah. It seemed she held a slight resentment at him for staying away for that long. No matter what her mouth said, sometimes her heart felt differently. It was true, she did miss him. Even after their fight, she sometimes wondered what it would be like if she had stayed, listened to what Loki had to say.</p><p>In the wake of her forgiveness, their friendship had been tentative. Each took steps around the other. Loki remained sullen and brooding for two weeks before he started to open up again, while she was afraid to release any information for fear of being treated as 'evidence' again. Eventually, they returned to where they previously were, stronger than before. For if that fissure would be mended, what couldn't they do?</p><p>When Hermione's trust began building up again, she began asking him questions about Asgard. He, careful as she, did the same. The camaraderie was different, evolved. More stable. Once more, she found herself enjoying his visits and becoming impatient on the days between.</p><p>Though she had known he would be leaving for a long time, two years was far longer in execution than in words. She had to admit, she missed their crazy talks, their wild theory sessions, the muffled laughter at Thor's misfortune when Loki described him as a 'blundering mountain troll with no sense of direction and a lightning fetish.'</p><p>Now he was here. Hermione was going to make the most out of this moment.</p><p>"I do realise that. What you have to realise is that under Odin's eye it is near impossible to slip away. He had Heimdall keep watch of me wherever I went. At one point he even wanted to put a tracking spell on me." His voice was dark. Hermione cringed. She couldn't imagine being watched at every turn. Every movement monitored.</p><p>"Not even the secret pathways could work?"</p><p>"Father doesn't like not knowing things. When I go off to places without telling him first, it usurps his sense of control. He doesn't like it. What would happen if word got out that the 'great Odin All-Father couldn't control the movements of his youngest son?"</p><p>"Bad things, I assume."</p><p>"That is one way to put it, certainly." He shook his head, veering away from the extremely personal topic. "It is good to see you again, Hermione Granger."</p><p>"You too, you big idiot."</p><p>"I resent that."</p>
<hr/><p>A couple of hours later found the pair talking quietly about mundane topics. Anything from the different anatomy of trolls on Asgard versus Earth ("No, I'm not talking about Thor, Loki!") to what Hermione's favourite food was (it happened to be spaghetti bolognese). They both found comfort in soft conversations. It was about everything and nothing.</p><p>At the current moment, Hermione was teaching him about some of the more intricate parts of transfiguration. He had requested it, wanting to compare it to his own shapeshifting.</p><p>"Do you think you understand now?" Hermione suddenly asked. Loki glanced up from the tome he was reading aloud from.</p><p>"Of course. I understand everything I lay eyes on. I am not some second rate sorcerer who takes weeks to understand a topic so mundane as this one."</p><p>Hermione snorted. "Of course, how could I forget?" Loki grinned "No, don't go doing that. I don't like that look. It could mean anything. But!" She stood with a flourish, quickly changing the subject. "I have an idea."</p><p>"Oh? And what may this idea be?"</p><p>"We go out and have some fun in the city."</p><p>"And what would we be doing on this night?" He leaned forward slightly.</p><p>"That's the fun of it! As much as it hurts me, we don't plan." Loki raised an eyebrow. "Okay, we plan a little." What was she thinking, going anywhere without a plan? That was very out of character for her. No, even the skeleton of a plan would suffice, though it would likely change once they were out. It didn't happen often but she could be spontaneous.</p><p>Sometimes.</p><p>If she wanted to.</p><p>"That's what I thought," he chuckled. "This sounds like an…interesting expedition. I will come along."</p><p>"Great!" She clapped her hands together. "I'll wake up Ron to tell him I'm going out, then I can plan and leave. It's still going to be a surprise for you."</p><p>"He will not wake up until he needs to."</p><p>"What do you...Loki!" Hermione couldn't help the hysterical giggle that escaped her. Of course, <em>of course, </em>Loki had sent Ron into a snoring, slobbering slumber. The sheer 'Lokiness' of the action was enough to remind her why she was friends with this mad, brilliant man in the first place. "That's my boyfriend!"</p><p>"I think you mean, 'Loki's victim.' It was child's play to spell him to sleep."</p><p>"For you, most things are."</p><p>"That is also true."</p><p>Hermione shook her head. "Let's get you properly dressed, and then I'm going to go down to wake up Ron and tell him we're going out." She raised a finger. "No, no buts. I'm not leaving him asleep for what could possibly be hours. I owe him this." She clapped her hands together with what was perhaps a mite too much enthusiasm. "And you can't go to London looking like that."</p><p>Loki glanced down at his attire. "Yes, I agree." With a wave of his hand and a green shimmer, he was dressed in a smart suit. All black with sharp edges and strategic cuts. Hermione snorted. He looked like he was dressed for an awards show, not a fun night out. Perhaps if she just…</p><p>With a wave of her wand and some glistening blue sparks, the clothes morphed. Where there used to be a clever suit, there were now jeans and a slightly oversized hoodie. Loki immediately locked up. He stood with his arms hanging awkwardly, trying not to touch the fabric. It reminded her of herself as a child, carrying her cousin's stinky sock to the laundry with only her fingertips touching it.</p><p>"I am not agreeing to this," he hissed. "Why would you ever think to dress me in these clothes? What traitorous thoughts roam through your worm-riddled mind?"</p><p>"The suit was too formal." She shrugged. "I could try again if you want."</p><p>"I am perfectly capable of making my own clothes, Hermione."</p><p>"And, you're also perfectly capable of replicating the same suit over and over until I give up." She poked her wand into his chest. He gave a mildly perturbed look. "So leave this one to me."</p><p>"If you insist," he sighed dramatically.</p><p>"Oh, I do."</p><p>With another swish of her wand, Loki's clothes changed into a rather flamboyant outfit. It was all bright colours, stitched together haphazardly in such a way that it could burn anyone's eyes. It was something she'd seen on television when she was younger, a re-run of Doctor Who. She had an extremely vivid memory of her mother saying, "That poor actor, why would they open him up to ridicule like that? This show really has gone downhill since I watched it as a child." Just the thought of putting Loki in that outfit reduced her to cackles, so she took the opportunity and ran.</p><p>In front of her, Loki looked absolutely ridiculous and very much peeved.</p><p>"If you insist on making me a clown, I will tear you apart piece by piece and feed you to the bilgesnipes of Asgard." He crossed his arms. "One more chance or I will be going in that suit you hate so much, though I can't imagine why. It's perfectly fine."</p><p>"You look like a Hollywood actor." An idea came into her head. "Okay, one more chance. I've got it this time, I promise."</p><p>"You better," Loki threatened. A few years ago, Hermione would have thought him serious. Now, though, she could hear the underlying mirth, that small element of teasing, weaving its way into his voice. It was so subtle yet so clear.</p><p>One final swish of her wand and a bright spurt of blue later, Loki was dressed in a way she deemed 'appropriate' for a fun night out in London. A blazer, button-down shirt and casual pants, along with well-polished shoes. A nice midway point between his ridiculous suit and her hoodie-jean combo.</p><p>"This is…acceptable." Loki conjured a mirror and gazed upon himself critically. "Yes, this will do quite nicely. Next time, though," he pointed a threatening finger at her, "I choose my clothes. Enjoy this memory, for it is the only time you'll ever be able to do this."</p><p>"Whatever you say," Hermione hummed merrily. "Right, I'll go wake up Ron and then I'll Apparate us there."</p><p>"Excuse me? Wouldn't it be far more simple to use my method of teleporting?"</p><p>Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And, Mister All-Knowing, do you happen to know where we're going?" She held out her hand impatiently, already knowing his answer to her question.</p><p>"I do not. It would be a simple transfer of knowledge―"</p><p>"Nope. We're doing this my way tonight. And you're going to go out there and have fun, okay? Some simple, mindless fun."</p><p>"Thank you," Loki said suddenly. "It's been a long time since someone has done something like this for me. I'm usually the one doing it for myself."</p><p>Just like before, anger surged upwards. Those casual admissions of loneliness, as if it was right, as if was normal. Like he'd accepted it. No. She would never let him feel that way again. She would find a way for him to regularly travel back and forth between Earth and Asgard without Odin (that bitch) detecting it. If people on Asgard couldn't, wouldn't, accept him for who he as, then that was their loss. It would take a long time, but she would make him feel loved by more than just his mother. And that started tonight, a night for forgetting. Sure, there were many worries in the world, but right now, they could forget. A night of mindless fun, laughter and no worries. Something they both needed.</p><p>"Fine then. I will be up here, waiting." Loki idly picked up the book from before, burying his nose in it. "These concepts really are simple."</p><p>"I'll be back soon," Hermione said in lieu of a farewell. Loki nodded back, making a slight noise in acknowledgement.</p>
<hr/><p>Hermione nimbly hopped down the stairs. She followed the earth-shaking snoring towards the lounge. Ron was still sprawled over the armchair. It was no different from the last time she saw him. Given the Loki spelled him to sleep, it wasn't a surprise. Loki's magic was incredibly potent. Now that she thought about it, Ron didn't tend to snore this much. It must be another part of the spell.</p><p>A quite hilarious one, if you asked her.</p><p>She shot a quick, "<em>Rennervate</em>," at Ron.</p><p>He awoke spluttering, falling onto the floor with a yell. "―o are you? Get out of my house!" He blinked owlishly, suddenly staring up at Hermione. "Wait, what? There was a man in the house. All green and black." Swiping his birds' nest of hair back, Ron stood. "That bastard must have spelled me to sleep. Are you okay, Hermione?" His voice took on a desperate tone.</p><p>"Yes, Ron, I'm fine. Everything is okay." Well, Loki wasn't, but Ron didn't know about Loki. "It's absolutely fine."</p><p>Ron nodded, relief flickering over his face, only to be replaced with utter unease. "Oh thank Merlin!" He gnawed at his lip. "But why aren't you worried about the fact a strange man came into our house and put me to sleep with a wave of his hand? He could be a Death Eater with some strange new magic. How can you be so calm? He came into our house, Hermione. Our house!" With the way Ron was pacing, a trench would be carved into the carpet by morning.</p><p>True, stragglers of Voldemort's group were still an occasional threat. Ron's theory wasn't pulled out of his ass. There had been several instances in the two years after the war that they'd been attacked, whether in private or public. They were easily dispatched, mere husks of their former threat. With the way Loki dressed, it wasn't too much of a jump.</p><p>"He's actually upstairs," Hermione said. Time to bite the bullet. She knew that one day she would have to tell Ron and Harry about Loki. Today was that day, it seemed. If Loki revealed himself to Ron when he could have easily cast the spell from the shadows, Ron none the wiser, it was time.</p><p>"He's what?" Ron stopped pacing. He was looking at Hermione like she'd gone bonkers. To be fair, she would do the same. "I'm sorry, did I hear you right? The man who broke into our house and spelled me to sleep is upstairs? And you know? Have I gone insane? Hermione, what's going on?" He staggered back into the armchair.</p><p>"It's a strange situation, Ron. I'll tell you the full story later. What I can tell you now is that he's an old friend, my oldest, and I haven't seen him in two years." She twisted her fingers, a rare display of anxiety she usually kept in check. "I'm so sorry I can't tell you more right now, but he needs to be there when I do."</p><p>"Bloody hell, Hermione." He ran a hand through his hair, corners of his eyes crinkling. "He still broke in and spelled me to sleep. How can you act like this is okay?"</p><p>"I'll be talking to him about that," she vowed. "What I need from you now is patience. Tomorrow, I'll tell you everything he's comfortable with sharing, I promise. Can you do that for me?"</p><p>"Can I do...can I do that for you?" Ron stopped to think for a moment, biting his bottom lip. He took a deep breath. "No. I can't do that for you. What you can do for me is explain what is going on and who that man is!"</p><p>"Why can't you trust me on this?" Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Is it really that hard to trust me?"</p><p>"It's not that I don't trust you, Hermione. You're being totally inconsiderate!" His temples rippled as he clenched his jaw. "Try to look at this from my side. I don't care if he's your oldest friend, who I happen to know nothing about, by the way. I don't care who he is. He broke into my fucking house, violated my home, put me to sleep, and then you come down and act like everything is okay." He sucked in a deep breath. "Well, sorry to break it to you, this isn't okay."</p><p>"Ron―"</p><p>"Don't. Just listen to me." He stalked closer, fury hanging thick around him. "I want you to tell me everything about this man and your history with him. Then he's going to come down here and explain himself, then get the fuck out of my home. I'm not budging on this."</p><p>She scoffed. "You're going to have to budge on it. Loki and I are going out to London and we'll explain everything tomorrow when we get back." She crossed her arms, standing her ground. "Just trust me on this. I haven't seen him in years, this is the least you could do!</p><p>"Going out? How can you...Hermione, I am your boyfriend. I love you. How can you act like this is okay? The least <em>you</em> could do is explain to me who he is! He broke in. I don't feel safe in my own fucking home. Somehow he got past the wards, the wards we set up to keep people out! Please, just tell me who that man is and what's going on."</p><p>"I can't believe you on this! I'll tell you in the morning, and that is final," Hermione seethed, discreetly getting her wand out of its holster. "I'll see you tomorrow, Ronald."</p><p>And with a crack, she disappeared into the upstairs bedroom, grabbed Loki's arm and turned on her heel once again, leaving behind something that, in the back of her mind, deep down in her heart, she knew was wrong.</p>
<hr/><p>They appeared in an alley outside a towering movie theatre. Brick walls surrounded them, the rancid stench of rotting garbage everywhere. Hermione plugged her nose, fanning it away with her other hand. "Okay, I wasn't expecting that smell. Let's get out of here…Loki?"</p><p>Loki, the smartass, was already standing at the end of the alley. Smugness was the only word to describe him right now. Away from the smell. Away from her. She probably stunk already. Damn. She sprinted to the end of the alley, into the bustling street. A few strange glances were received, but nothing more.</p><p>She smoothed her hair down.</p><p>"Are you quite alright?" He asked as she walked over.</p><p>"Just fine," she said shortly. "Just a slight disagreement with Ron, nothing more. Let's enjoy our night, shall we?"</p><p>"So what are we doing?" Loki replied, choosing to ignore her clipped tone.</p><p>Oh yeah.</p><p>That was right.</p><p>The plan.</p><p>That she didn't really have.</p><p>She did make a plan, but the plan was in her head. A very tentative plan. Usually, she tried to 'go with the flow' on these sorts of nights, but she was Hermione Granger. If she went anywhere without a plan, there was an imposter in her life. So far, she had a film, some food, and some exploring scheduled. The thing was, she was so caught up in waking up Ron, 'negotiating' with him, and getting Loki an outfit, that she forgot to tell him just what they were doing. Oh well. All the more surprise for him.</p><p>"First, we're getting this stink off me."</p><p>"You don't smell." She gave him a look. "Trust me, my nose is stronger than yours. Thirty seconds in an alleyway isn't enough to make you smell."</p><p>"Alright, then. But if I get any complaints, it's on you."</p><p>"Gladly. You won't get any, though." He turned towards the theatre. "Now, what film are we seeing?" He seemed slightly intrigued, like he knew what a film was but hadn't seen many before. Or perhaps he was curious about the topic of the film. He was the type to do absolutely everything, and then somehow be the best at it. That definitely seemed more plausible.</p><p>"I didn't have time to plan for that," Hermione said sheepishly. "I know there are some good ones out at the moment, though, so I thought we could go in and see what's showing." Films were always fun, and a good way to start a night out.</p><p>"I suppose. Let us go in and look."</p>
<hr/><p>"You should have seen the look on your face," Hermione said joyously, almost skipping out of the theatre. "I've never seen you like that before."</p><p>"And you never will again. When you said we were seeing a movie, I wasn't expecting…whatever that was." His nose scrunched up in mock disdain. At least, Hermione thought it was mock disdain.</p><p>"Come on, Sandra Bullock is a genius. You have to admit that you enjoyed it." She elbowed him in the ribs.</p><p>"Alright, I may have enjoyed it more than I've been letting on."</p><p>"I knew it!" Hermione punched the air in victory. The thought of Loki admitting that he liked 'Miss Congeniality' would make her laugh for the rest of her life, she could already tell. They managed to get seats right near the front, the only ones left.</p><p>It had been years since she went to a movie theatre. Looking back, she knew exactly why.</p><p>After her fifth year, with the War starting, her priorities went elsewhere. All her energy was directed to the magical side of life. She had neglected the muggle side. Going to see a film was such a simple, enjoyable thing to go and do, yet she didn't. When she was twelve, she swore an oath to always balance herself between the two, never becoming too caught up in either. Yet here she was, after seeing her first movie in over five years, having betrayed that promise. So now, she silently remade that promise to herself. There were so many amazing things on both sides of the fence, and she was lucky enough to have a foot in both.</p><p>"Yes, now can we move on?" Loki coughed awkwardly. "Oh, and if you tell anyone about this I will―"</p><p>"Tear me apart piece by piece and feed me to the bilgesnipes of Asgard," Hermione smugly interrupted. The…interesting 'threat' from before was still fresh in her mind. "You're gonna have to be more creative than that, Mister Silvertongue. I'm catching onto your tricks." She tapped her nose. "Who knows what will happen next?"</p><p>Loki straightened his already perfect blazer. "Nothing, I can assure you. You'll never catch onto my tricks. I'm far above you in terms of intellect and skill."</p><p>A memory flashed. "Mmmhmm, and remind me who found out where you were from with no prompting from you?" She playfully poked his arm. "I did it! That's me, Hermione Granger, sleuth extraordinaire."</p><p>"That was a fluke, nothing more."</p><p>"Oh sure." A delectable smell reached her nose, causing her stomach to growl despite the overpriced popcorn currently being digested. <em>Chips.</em> "Okay, new thing we're doing. Food. We're getting chips, and then we're going to sit by the Thames."</p><p>"I could go for some food," Loki said. "That is an excellent idea. Let us not waste time."</p><p>Together they sped towards the chip stand, ordering a box each. Soon, the steaming food was delivered and they carried it off towards a bench on the edge of the great river Thames.</p><p>Streetlamps reflected in the water, small waves crashing against the barnacle crusted stone wall. A metal barrier laced around the edge of the river. The bench was still slightly damp from the drizzle earlier in the day. Loki subtly waved his hand to dry it. Together they sat down.</p><p>The image of Ron yelling suddenly appeared, burned into her eyelids every time she blinked. Every word he bit out echoed in her ears, filling the silence, turning it into a cacophony of shame.</p><p>"This is surprisingly nice," Loki suddenly commented. Hermione jumped, knocked out of her rapidly spirally thoughts.</p><p>He was already halfway through his chips, compared to Hermione's quarter. Sometimes she forgot how much he ate, that he was from another planet altogether. That he was still worshipped as a god by some people. It was an incredibly strange thought, even five years after discovering it. To think that her best friend, her oldest friend, the man who knew so much and knew her so well, was revered by many people. And yet here he was, sitting next to her, happily munching on chips, gazing out over the street-lamp lit Thames, forgetting the day's events with her.</p><p>Merlin knows she wanted to forget.</p><p>"The evening, or the chips?"</p><p>"Both. It has been a long while since I partook in an activity like this." He paused thoughtfully. "I should do it more often."</p><p>"Me too." They fell back into a comfortable silence, eating and thinking happy thoughts. At least, Hermione hoped that Loki's thoughts were happy.</p><p>"So," Loki said suddenly, "why don't you tell me more about your potential job?"</p><p>Hermione instantly lit up at the opportunity for distraction. "Where do you want me to start?" When she was telling her story before, this was one of the areas she glossed over the top of, as there wasn't a whole lot to talk about yet, especially when she'd been talking for so long already. "There's so much for me to talk about."</p><p>"How about you start with the portal? It sounds absolutely fascinating. I would like to know more about it." He chucked the empty chip packet into a nearby bin.</p><p>"I don't actually know a huge amount about it myself. I was only there for ten minutes. I managed to theorise that it was incredibly old, unstable and contained with hundreds of ancient runes and wards. There is so much more that I want to know about it. Studying it would be a dream."</p><p>"What were the types of runes? I may know a few." He handed her a piece of paper and a pencil that didn't exist a second ago. "Sketch out what you can remember."</p><p>Reaching into her memory, Hermione began drawing what she remembered. Some of them were so crumbled it was hard to get a clear, concise image. But there was one clear one on the arch itself that she remembered well, so that was the one she drew. Loki stared down at the paper, eyes darting back and forth, following her pencil strokes.</p><p>"There," she said, handing him the paper. "Do you recognise it?"</p><p>"I…do not." He seemed genuinely shocked. "There are traces of runic language I know, such as on the side there," he pointed to two interconnecting strokes, "but the language itself I can't recognise nor decipher. That portal is older than me by at least a thousand years."</p><p>"That's incredible," Hermione breathed. "It's a thousand years older than I estimated. That must mean the people who made it were ancient druids!" Her voice rose in pitch with her bubbling excitement. "And these runes must have been their language, one that's never before been studied or translated. I could be the first person to seriously study this language, and maybe even the culture! There could be methods of magic completely lost to time! There is so much I could learn from this." The future began flashing before her eyes, visions full of magic and wonder. She <em>had </em>to work there, no matter what it took.</p><p>"Do you mind if I take this back to Asgard to study? There may be mentions of it in the royal library that I can send back to you for reference."</p><p>"Are you kidding? That would be amazing!" She made a copy of it, handing him the original. It never hurt to keep a record of memories. She was planning on doing it sooner, but Loki arriving back thrust her mind off the tracks.</p><p>"I completely agree," Loki said grandly.</p><p>"Well, you would," she replied.</p><p>"This job is your dream, correct?"</p><p>Giving him a look that said, 'are you an idiot, because last time I checked you weren't,' she said, "Of course. I couldn't imagine myself doing anything else, now that I've been there."</p><p>"And if," he steepled his fingers, "hypothetically, the other applicants were to drop out for...reasons, that would mean the position would be yours, correct?"</p><p>"Yes, I'd say so. What do you mean…" She stopped to think for a second. "You'd do that?"</p><p>"It would take a mere flick of my wrist. Their desire for the position would simply fade away, and you would have your dream job."</p><p>"Do it," she said immediately. "But don't hurt anyone." As long as no one was harmed, this was something she was well okay with. Oh, who was she kidding? She was definitely on board. She would get the job, could study the portal, and make a difference. Definitely more difference than anyone else could anyway. The other candidates could find positions elsewhere more suited to them. She knew that this was the one for her and would do anything to get it.</p><p>Loki nodded. Twisting his wrist elegantly, green tendrils began circling his fingers. After a second of him whispering into his hand, they soared upwards. Three of them, shooting off in different directions. Towards those who would suddenly find themselves wanting to get into magical law or pursue the subtle art of potions or become a world-famous Quidditch star. All dreams that were already there, brought to the forefront of their mind once more.</p><p>Really, Hermione thought after Loki told her this, she was doing them a favour. If these old ideas were so quick to come to the surface, surely they were their true dreams. Why would they spend their time researching a stuffy old portal when they could be doing what they truly wanted? She was the one who was perfect for the job, who wanted it more than anything.</p><p>"Thank you so much," she said, unable to keep the grin off her face.</p><p>"It is the least I could do. After all, you are the one who forgave me, after all I have done wrong."</p><p>"Ah ah ah, none of that. We're having fun tonight."</p><p>"Indeed."</p><p>Hermione squashed her own finished chip packet down. She threw it at the bin. It bounced off the rim and onto the cobblestone footpath. Cursing under her breath, Hermione got up and placed it back in. A newspaper spread over the ground near the base, so she picked it up and was about to throw it in the bin when she saw a brightly coloured advertisement for a local roller rink.</p><p>A wicked smile tugged at her lips.</p><p>
  <em>See, she could be spontaneous.</em>
</p><p>Time to see if she finally could one up Loki. After all, she'd done this before and was fairly certain Loki had not.</p>
<hr/><p>A long way away from where roller skates were being hired, Ronald Weasley began packing his bags with trembling hands, dreading the day that was to come.</p>
<hr/><p>To Hermione's consternation, it turned out that Loki was a natural at roller skating. Though it took her almost half an hour to convince him to go, once he got the wheeled shoes on his feet, he was off like a shot. He whizzed around the edge of the rink. If she squinted, she could almost see him, a blur of black and green, wind in his wake.</p><p>Hermione, however, was left clutching the railing. With every movement, she was sent stumbling. head over heels, face first towards the floor. If she came out of this with a severely bruised tailbone and a busted lip it wouldn't be a surprise.</p><p>By moving so slowly, she could get a good look at the brightly coloured rink and it's equally bright occupants. They slid gracefully through neon light and thumping music, smiles bright and hair wild. So at home.</p><p>Such a contrast to Hermione.</p><p>Loki sped past her again, giving her a grin. He was enjoying this, wasn't he? Watching her struggle, knuckles popping white against the railing. Oh, big whoop. It wasn't her fault she couldn't move with wheels on her feet. All the skill she learned as a child was gone, out the window and fed to the fish. It was especially annoying because once upon a time, she was decent at roller skating. Yet as an adult she fumbled around like a newborn foal.</p><p>"You were right, this was an excellent suggestion," Loki said as he went past her. Again.</p><p>"Shut up," she muttered. With a deep breath, she pushed off the wall, holding her arms out for balance. For a second she was happily gliding along. Then, the turn came. No matter how much she wheeled her arms around, leaned to the left or awkwardly shuffled, the utterly stupid skated just wouldn't turn. And so, with a cry of frustration, she took on foot off the ground, intent on turning. On showing Loki up.</p><p>This turned out to be a terrible idea.</p><p>Within seconds, she was splayed on the floor. To add insult to injury, everyone else on the floor kept a wide berth around her. Pity in their eyes and laughter on their lips.</p><p>"Need any help?" That smug bastard. Now he was skating backwards, hands clasped behind his back, serene as a cherry blossom tree is a light spring breeze. He circled her, before coming to a stop. A frustratingly fancy stop. The only way he could be so good at this was if he'd done it before. Knowing Loki, he probably had. Damn her assumptions.</p><p>"No, I do not. I am perfectly capable," Hermione growled. With the toe stops planted hard against the floor, she pushed herself up. It didn't work. All it did was send her careening down to the ground again. Her cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of fuschia. "Shut up!"</p><p>"Oh, but I didn't even say anything. Is this what the great Hermione Granger is reduced to? Insulting her friend because she can't rollerskate?"</p><p>"I am <em>not </em>insulting you." Finally, she managed to haul herself up. "I can rollerskate, it's just taking me a while to get back into the flow." More than a while. If she kept this up it would be years before she got back into it. But no, that wouldn't be happening. She was Hermione Granger, the whiz, the genius, and wouldn't accept defeat this easily. She would never accept defeat, not ever. It was time to get serious.</p><p>"A while, you say? We have been here for an hour already and you haven't improved in the slightest." He glanced over at something. "There is a child rink if you can't manage this one." He bent down. "Perhaps you'd be better at home over there."</p><p>"You're the child if you think I'm going to give up so easily." She thrust a threatening finger at him. "I will become good at this and show you up one day!"</p><p>"Keep telling yourself that, maybe one day you'll believe it." And off he went again, fast as a bullet. Hermione was left standing awkwardly, arms out for balance, unable to move without acquainting her face with the floor. This was utterly humiliating. Why in Merlin's name did she agree to not use any magic? A simple balancing charm and she would be set to skate. But no, she was floundering around.</p><p>Absolutely typical.</p><p>Okay, Hermione, she thought, one step at a time. You have to start somewhere.</p><p>She hesitantly pushed off. It was tiny and ungainly, but she stayed up. Second foot, third foot. Fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh. Okay, she was picking up a little speed. Eighth, ninth, tenth! Her arms flailed like a windmill on crack and her face was permanently set in constipated concentration, but she was going forward. Slow. Ever so slow. But it was forwards. And forwards wasn't the floor.</p><p>A sudden wobble overtook her. Desperately, her arms wheeled. Upright, come on, stay upright….YES!</p><p>"HA HA!" she yelled out. "I did it!" No one could hear it over the booming music except for those next to her. At that moment, she didn't care about their strange looks. She stayed upright, on her feet. This was only the beginning. Hermione Granger was on her way to becoming a world-class roller skater. She wouldn't settle for anything less than that, anything less than perfection. She would practice over and over, study until her brain went gummy and her eyes fuzzed in and out, then study some more. The world wasn't ready for what was coming its way.</p><p>"Finally managed to get it, did you?"</p><p>"And on my own, too," she exclaimed excitedly. "Told you I could do it."</p><p>"I never doubted you for a second."</p><p>"Trying to get back into my good graces, hmmm?" She took another few hesitant steps forward, still finding her balance. Loki lazily matched her pace. "A little too late for that, don't you think?"</p><p>"What makes you think I was ever in your good graces, to begin with?" He scrunched up his nose, holding his hands out in a mocking fashion. "I am royalty and hold no obligations to be in any peasant's good graces.</p><p>Hermione giggled, quickly catching herself as she once again lost balance. "Well, for this peasant you do." Eventually, the giggles stopped with a contented, "hmmm."</p><p>And it was true.</p><p>At this moment, Hermione was very content. Despite her ridiculous (soon to be rectified) lack of skill at roller skating, she was enjoying the night. The move, chips, guarantee she would get the job, it was all coming together. What a brilliant day. She was moving up in life, up in the world, and nobody could stop her. It finally felt like she'd found her destiny, her path in life. After four wasted months, the elation fizzing through her veins was comparable only to winning the war.</p><p>Things were finally looking up.</p>
<hr/><p>"You should have seen her face," Loki said grandly. "Sif the Golden-Haired was no more."</p><p>"I can't believe she used to be blonde. Serves her right," Hermione chuckled. "I can't believe some of the things you've gotten up to. I know I shouldn't be surprised, given you're the literal God of Mischief, but it still surprises me."</p><p>"I haven't the faintest clue why."</p><p>"Neither do I. You'd think by now I'd be used to it." A sudden thought struck her. "I think you would have gotten along swimmingly with the Marauders."</p><p>"Who might they be?"</p><p>"My friend Harry, his father and his friends were a group called the Marauders. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. We don't mention Wormtail, though. The rat," she spat. "When they were at Hogwarts, they were notorious for playing pranks. They were cruel when they were younger, but did mature as they got older."</p><p>"I do agree with you. I do think I could have taught them a thing or two. I am the master, after all."</p><p>"Oh, of course."</p><p>He chuckled. "It is excellent to finally see you recognising that fact."</p><p>Now, they walked through the village Hermione and Ron's overgrown little house stood on the outskirts of. It was the perfect end to the night. Both found their spirits lightened immensely. There was really nothing that could compare to a night of mindless fun. Fun for fun's sake. Well, libraries could. And memorising books (Hermione always made sure to keep at least thirty memorised on the off chance she was petrified again). And the thrill of seeking new knowledge. Okay, mindless fun was up there with mindful fun. Both had their benefits.</p><p>The cobbled street, slick with recently fallen rain, was dark save for the golden streetlamps. Little pools of golden light held captive by the tight hand of the night. Charming shops lined the street, contents of the windows silhouetted into a grey. Up in the sky, the moon sat jovially, casting a faint silver that mingled with the captured gold.</p><p>If Hermione didn't have a warming charm, she would be shivering right now. But thanks to the charm, she was free to just…be. Quiet moments like this were rare. Her mind wasn't running a million miles a minute marathon. It was quiet. Simply observing what was around her, living in the moment. Appreciating what she had, what was to come.</p><p>Her quiet, content thoughts were shattered when a sudden cry of, "HELP!" cut through the calm night air like a shot. She jerked around. I came from somewhere close. They called again. "HELP ME! PLEASE!" A male voice, not far from here. Possibly a few blocks over.</p><p>Loki noticed it too.</p><p>Without hesitation, Hermione whipped out her wand and started running towards the cry. She hadn't run this fast, nor this desperately, since the war. But she wasn't about to leave someone screaming for help high and dry. Not when that had been her so many times. Not when it had been her…</p><p>She could just hear Loki pounding the pavement behind her, a blurry figure in the corner of her eyes. He could keep up with her no problem, that wasn't a worry of hers right now.</p><p>"<em>Point me </em>danger," she said, slapping her wand down on her palm. It spun wildly before locking onto North-East. Exactly where they were going. Better safe than sorry, and now she knew exactly where the danger was. The wand swivelled slightly again, now pointing more North. The victim was being moved. They had to hurry up.</p><p>"HELP! ANYONE!" The third cry only spurred her to move quicker. Something was seriously wrong, someone was in serious trouble. A bead of sweat dripped down her forehead. Beginnings of burning exhaustion crept through her muscles. This only served to remind her how out of shape she was. Damn it. She had to move faster.</p><p>She skidded to a stop in front of a deep alley, her second of the night. Her eyes squinted, peering down the end to where the person was in danger. Darkness curled around four figures down the end of the alley. Three of them (two female and one male, she noted) hunched over, jeering at a terrified person scrabbling for cover at the end. There was none to be found, only the terrifying, looming aggressors above them. They were trembling like a leaf, limbs prone.</p><p>"Come on, give it up, you can't do anything now," mocked the first one. Her voice was as high as she was tiny. It didn't serve to fool Hermione. The lithe, tight muscle lining her arms and legs was enough to make even the strongest fighter hesitate, think twice. Her body was coiled, ready for action. "Why even try to fight?"</p><p>The second piped up, "Yeah," followed by a deep laugh. He was also small, stocky in the shoulders and legs. Maybe from a boxing background. Clearly familiar with fighting if the way his fists were clenching was any indication.</p><p>These observations flew through her mind whip-fast as she stalked towards them. Taking stock of the situation. The victim, who she could now see was a skeletal male, laid eyes on her. A sharp shushing gesture left him quiet, eyes cast down to the ground. Having the element of surprise was vital, as was making sure that the victim wasn't put in any danger by her.</p><p>"Just give us what we want and everything will be okay," hissed the third. There was nothing outstanding about this woman, unlike the others. But when she turned to the side, a metal blade glinting dangerously in her hand, Hermione sprang into action without a second thought.</p><p>"<em>Stupefy! Stupefy!" </em>The first two crumpled to the ground, marionettes with their strings cut. Tiny woman's head struck the concrete with a sickening <em>crack! </em>Before Knife-Woman had any time to react, Hermione cried, "<em>Accio! Stupefy!</em>" The knife zipped out of her hand, clattering to the ground at Hermione's feet just before Knife-Woman fell down next to her defeated teammates.</p><p>Hermione kicked the knife aside, rushing forward to the man. Blood pooled in his eyelid, congealed globs forming on his forehead where a nasty gash ate into his skin. All of his clothes were dirtied, ripped beyond repair, stained with blood. She cringed.</p><p>"Where are you hurt?" she said gently. "I can help."</p><p>"What are you?" he hissed, pushing himself back even further. Still, he trembled like a leaf. "You must be some sort of witch."</p><p>"Yes, I am. I'm a friendly witch, though, and I can help you. I didn't kill them. They're merely knocked out. If you look closely, they're still breathing." She twisted around to show him, only to receive a shock herself. Loki was hunched over the bodies, strapping wrists and ankles together with gusto. Perhaps tighter than they needed to be, but who was she to interfere when he was doing such an efficient job? "My friend here is tying them up so they don't escape."</p><p>"I have eyes, I can see that, Witch."</p><p>Her left eye twitched. He…she just saved her, what right did he have to say that? "Excuse me? I just saved you from getting stabbed and this is how you respond? Now, this is how things are going to go. Listen very carefully." She held out her wand. "I am going to heal you, then take you to the police station so you can report this crime. The perpetrators will admit to it, I'll make sure of it. And then," she growled, "you're going to say thank you."</p><p>The man suddenly deflated, wrapping his hands around his legs. "Thank you, I guess."</p><p>"You're welcome. Now, I'm going to heal you. This won't hurt in the slightest." She raised her wand and murmured the healing incantations. Cheerful mint light burst from her wand and circled around his quivering arms. It gently probed at the scratches and bruises before sinking into his skin. Instantly the wounds knitted themselves together. The man was lucky they were superficial enough to be healed without the use of potions or elixirs.</p><p>"This is ticklish." He squirmed slightly.</p><p>"Yes, I suppose I did forget to mention that part. Besides, you're healed now. No need to go to the hospital." She stood back up, offering him her hand. As she pulled him up, she couldn't help but notice how light he was. Tall, willowy and impossibly skinny. Could that have been why they pegged him as a target?</p><p>"I'm sorry. Tonight's been a rough night."</p><p>Hermione was about to reply when Loki hopped into the conversation with venom on his tongue. "You better be sorry. I do not think there is a singular being in the nine realms as ungrateful as you. I have met trolls with more tact than you." The man's eyes widened at the mention of trolls.</p><p>"Loki. Now is not the time." She placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "We'll take you to the police station and you can go on from there. Your case will be watertight, don't worry about it. You won't get in trouble for them being tied up and they will get what is coming to them." He didn't offer up the story behind the attack and Hermione didn't ask. Some people didn't want to talk and she could respect that in situations like these.</p><p>"I'll be okay walking from here."</p><p>"Are you sure?"</p><p>"You've done enough already. Thank you, but I can handle myself."</p><p>"Okay, then," she said somewhat sniffily.</p><p>So, with a handy memory replacement to remove evidence of magic, courtesy of Loki, the man was on his way to the police station with three barely conscious attackers hopping along after him. In a week, the big, burly woman with the knife would shoot up in the middle of the night and wonder, "How did I get there when I wasn't moving my own body?"</p><p>Those were their problems now. Serves them right.</p>
<hr/><p>"How can you stand for such disrespect?" seethed Loki, the second they teleported to her house. "You should have left him to be attacked. He does not deserve your help in the slightest. Not an inkling."</p><p>"Sometimes you have to look past that." Hermione didn't like it either but discovering that magic existed after being brutally attacked was enough to make anyone loopy.</p><p>"I shall not look past it."</p><p>"Loki, drop it."</p><p>"Hermione―"</p><p>"I said drop it, Loki. I don't want to talk about it." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Look, I'm sorry. Let's talk about it tomorrow. There's already a big conversation with Ron I need to have about you, given that he saw you, which I know you did on purpose, and now knows about you. He certainly wasn't happy about it before." She pointedly ignored the proud look on his face. "I just want to enjoy the rest of the night." Usually, she would jump on an issue right away. Tonight, though, she wanted to hang onto the contentedness, so rare for her, for just a few moments more.</p><p>The calm before the storm she knew was coming.</p><p>"Tomorrow, then." Their footsteps crunched along the gravel path leading up to the front door. Ah, the joys of teleporting.</p><p>"Tomorrow. Anyway, do you want to stay the night? We have a spare room and you don't need to squirrel yourself off to Asgard. You can alter it in any way that you like so long as you return it when you leave. Ron knows you exist now, so it will just be one more thing to explain tomorrow."</p><p>"That should be adequate."</p><p>Hermione unlocked the door, quietly opening it. "I've really enjoyed tonight, even with the whole rescue situation."</p><p>Loki smiled softly. "I must say I have done the same."</p><p>She headed up the stairs, towards her room with Ron. A quick point told Loki where the spare bedroom was. He disappeared into it without a second thought, gently shutting the door behind him. Green light already leaked out through the door crack. She knew he would get straight to work. Absently, she wondered what it would look like when morning came.</p><p>What a night, she thought, settling down for bed.</p><p>But, the two most important things swept to the front of her brain. No matter what bad things happened, she now had two wonderful, wonderful things to keep her afloat. A job, and her best friend back.</p><p>That night, she dreamed happy dreams.</p><p>And she deserved it.</p>
<hr/><p>Hermione awoke with a groan.</p><p>Sun streamed through the suspiciously open curtains and directly into her eyes.</p><p>Saturday.</p><p>Saturday was one of her two free days. It was meant for research, hours spent in the library, or memorising new knowledge. Saturdays were not meant for having conversations that didn't need to take place because her demi-god friend wanted to pull a prank on her unsuspecting boyfriend. Why couldn't Loki have waited a few more days? A Tuesday would have been far more suited for this conversation. Even a Wednesday. But, no. Here she was on a bright Saturday morning, preparing to face incoming doom.</p><p>Ron was already gone, leaving crumpled bedsheets behind. Oh, would you look at that? He stole the duvet again. Hermione stubbornly pulled it back over, bundling herself in the warmth. Her pyjama pants scrunched up around her thighs. Five more minutes, then she would get up. Right now, she was content to exist as a duvet gremlin. Besides, this was Loki's fault. He was the one who broke in and spelled Ron to sleep. She really did need to talk to him about that. Ugh. So many things to do and none of them involved books! What a lousy start to the weekend.</p><p>Five minutes passed.</p><p>Then ten.</p><p>Twenty.</p><p>Hermione remained cocooned, drifting back off to sleep. Perhaps if she stayed here, the world would forget she existed. Hmm. That would be nice. There were several of her favourite books she could go through, memorised to perfection. Entertainment for hours, days even.</p><p>The last thing she needed was to face Ron's arguments once again.</p><p>(They aren't founded on nothing, whispered a little voice in the back of her head.)</p><p>Her sleepy reverie was interrupted by a sudden knock on the doorframe.</p><p>"Hermione, you have a rather irate partner downstairs." Oh, would you look at that? It turned out Loki was civil in the morning. Well, he could wait. "He's cooking."</p><p>"I'm supposed to be cooking," she mumbled, turning herself over to face Loki. As always, he looked immaculate. At least he looked like the picture of princely perfection through her bleary, half-lidded eyes. "Saturday mornings are my time. We have a schedule." Damn, he must be angry cooking. Just like his mother. "Can you go down and tell him I'll be up in a few minutes. I'm comfortable here."</p><p>"Somehow I do not think he would react kindly to a total stranger walking into his kitchen to let him know that his girlfriend is still sleeping."</p><p>"You're not a total stranger. He saw you last night, which I <em>know</em> you did on purpose! He was not happy about it in the slightest." She reluctantly sat up, blinking her sleep filled eyes to clear them. Ah. It seemed there was a single hair out of place on his head. No way was she telling him. Small revenge, but a big win. Petty things kept her going on crap mornings like this, when leaving the warmth. A wall of cold air hit her as she slipped out of bed.</p><p>"What can I say? I wanted to make an unforgettable first impression. From the way he was yelling I succeeded."</p><p>"Ass. You still have to consider other's feelings."</p><p>"It comes with the titles."</p><p>"Still," she said, slipping on her dressing gown, "don't go breaking into my house again. It's not polite."</p><p>"Is that the only reason?"</p><p>"You know what I mean. Agh, curse this brush!" Said brush was currently stuck in her knotted hair. "I'll do this later. Right." She violently tore it out and glared at Loki. "You and I are going downstairs, and then we're going to have a talk. You're going to be sensible, and I'm going to do the talking."</p><p>"Whatever you say."</p><p>Hermione marched out of the room, grabbing his arm to drag him along behind her. As she passed the spare room, whose door was still open, all she saw was opulence in that trademarked Asgardian style: Large and gold. Typical.</p><p>Loud clattering and banging of pots reached her ears as they went down the stairs. Oh, lovely. It was worse than she thought. She wasn't awake enough for this. Still, she plonked a rather miffed Loki down at the dining room table, told him to stay put (knowing well that he wouldn't, but she could try) and moved into the kitchen.</p><p>Ron was currently frying eggs in the pan, even more than usual. A scowl marred his face, hair sticking up in every direction, and his dressing gown was somehow on backwards. Oh, dear. This was going to be worse than she thought. Damn Loki and his trickster's mind.</p><p>"Morning." She slipped right in next to him, grabbing the plates out of the draw. He grunted back a hello. "You didn't have to cook breakfast, you know."</p><p>"I was awake and didn't have anything better to do."</p><p>"Your cooking smells delectable, I must say. Hermione here seems the type to burn pasta."</p><p>She jumped.</p><p>Loki, in all his leather and metal glory, leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed. Not even two minutes. It was stupid to think Loki would sit idle for even the shortest of times. Why do that when he could be wherever he wasn't meant to be?</p><p>"I make a mean spaghetti bolognese," she retorted. He didn't have to know that that 'mean bolognese' was about all she could cook without magical assistance. Even then she struggled. Perhaps one of the reasons Ron took over her cooking slots so much.</p><p>Ron picked the egg up out of the pan, moving to transfer it to a plate. It slipped to the floor with a very sad splat, steam still rising off the top. He gazed blankly down at it, like he couldn't see anything at all. Then, in a cracked and shattered voice, he asked, "Why?"</p><p>"I'm sorry?"</p><p>"Why have you changed? I feel like I barely know you." He made no move to pick up the egg. "Who are you?"</p><p>"Ron, I'm still the same person. Just because I've kept a secret doesn't mean I've changed completely. You're taking this way out of proportion."</p><p>His face fell further, if that was even possible. "Hermione, what? What happened?"</p><p>"Evidently quite a lot," Loki chimed in, clearly enjoying the show. Hermione cast him a baleful glare.</p><p>"You're not a part of this,' Ron snarled, pointing an accusing finger. Tendons tensed under his skin, so tight he shook. "This is between Hermione and me, and you'd do good to stay out of it."</p><p>"If you insist." He took a step back, hands raised in the air in an imitation of surrender.</p><p>"Ron, stop. We can talk about this."</p><p>"No, you don't get to talk right now. Not after you blew me off last night and went to London with a man who I've never met, who broke into my home. How can you not understand this? You disappeared, made me feel as if our relationship is built on lies, and then you say we can talk about it?" He shuddered. "I'm not standing for that. So listen to me, Hermione. I want you to tell me everything that's going on, right now, and why you trust that man to stand in our house when he broke in."</p><p>Oh.</p><p>This wasn't going as well as she thought.</p><p>Perhaps there were a few more factors to consider.</p><p>"Loki is my best friend, Ron. My oldest. I met him when I was nine―"</p><p>"I'm sorry, nine? You were that young? He's at least ten years older than you. Have you stopped to think about how bad that sounds?" Ron wasn't even trying to hide his emotions anymore, sliding from devastated to disbelieving in the blink of an eye. "And what about Harry and me, are we not your best friends anymore?"</p><p>"It's not like that, I swear. And of course you're my best friends, I can have multiple." Deep breath, Hermione. Stay calm. "He helped me with an assignment on Norse Mythology, and we've been friends ever since. He's pretty good at that subject, too." Loki snorted. "Turns out he's the actual Loki."</p><p>You could have heard a pin drop.</p><p>"Wait, excuse me? You met him when you were nine, he told you he was a literal god, and you believed him? Open your eyes, Hermione, can't you see you're being used? Merlin, I thought this was bad enough, to begin with. He's brainwashed you!"</p><p>"I have done no such thing," Loki growled, taking a menacing step forward. He bristled as he spoke. "I would never dare to insult Hermione in such a way, nor would I infect her with such vile magic as mind control."</p><p>"Oh yeah, and what are you going to say next? That your brother is Thor, and you live in a golden palace?" Ron also took a step forward, nearly eye to eye with Loki. "Yeah, that's right. I learned some things from Hermione's research. What was all that for if you were there to help Hermione out?"</p><p>"Ron! Stop! I didn't believe him at the start. I found out myself. Those books you gave me were actually a big factor in it."</p><p>"I'm sorry? All those books we gave you were to research this bloody loon? You've gone mad, Hermione, you really have." Now he backed out of the kitchen, eyes wide in what could be called borderline fear. "Who are you? The gods don't exist, you know that. There's nothing logical about it!"</p><p>Come on, why wouldn't he believe her? There had to be something she was doing wrong. "I've been to Asgard, seen it with my own eyes. It's more beautiful than anything you can imagine. More power lies there than anything on Earth. The magic there is breathtaking, and I would give anything to go back and see it again. Maybe one day you could come too."</p><p>"I'm sure I could make that happen." Loki stepped forward, lowering his hands.</p><p>"Stop, both of you! Please, stop. I can't take this anymore."</p><p>"Ron, please, just listen―"</p><p>"No, just stop!"</p><p>"I can show you the memories," she pleaded, voice thick with an emotion she couldn't quite identify. "Just let me get a Pensieve." Never mind they were almost impossible</p><p>"I don't know who you are," Ron choked out. "I need to go. I need time, I need space, you need time to sort out whatever's going on because it isn't right. Hermione, I need you to come to your senses, please, I'm begging you. He broke into our home and you say it's okay? You believe his lies about being a God and expect me to take you at your word? <em>Accio Bag.</em>" A packed bag flew into his hands. "Sort yourself out or it's over."</p><p>With a crack, he disappeared, the living room instantly blanketed in suffocating silence.</p><p>The egg still sat sadly on the floor.</p><p>Tears pricked at Hermione's eyes. Thick waves of regret crashed in her mind, springing up out of nowhere yet endless, strong, overpowering. Neverending.</p><p>How did she let this happen?</p>
<hr/><p>Molly Weasley hummed contentedly, turning the page of her thrilling mystery novel. The new Diagon Alley library was really knocking it out of the park at the to her, Arthur tinkered at the dining room table with a contraption given to him by Hermione for his birthday, the little dear. Not so little anymore.</p><p>Everyone grew up, even Ginny, who seemed to stay young forever. She cherished every visit her children gave, always ready with a plate of warm food and a motherly hug. Seeing them succeed, grow up, be happy, shine like the stars they were, made her heart swell with ungodly amounts of pride.</p><p>Merlin knows they deserve it after the War.</p><p>That's why when Ron stumbled through the front door looking like someone died, her heart almost stopped.</p><p>In an instant she was at his side, a comforting hand around his trembling shoulders. When he dropped his bag on the floor, knees buckling and sending him down, she went down with him, rubbing soothing circles on his back. Arthur rushed over, worry beyond anything seen for years marring his face.</p><p>What could have happened? Every sob, every wail, sent a little chisel and hammer to work at her heart, breaking it in two. Anger roared in her chest, desperate to hurt whoever did this to her son, her little boy. They would pay for this, she swore, and pay for it in a way that would never be forgotten.</p><p>"Ron, sweetie, it's okay. We're here for you."</p><p>"She's not, though. She lied to me." Phlegm caught in his throat, sending him into a violent coughing fit broken only by a guttural gulping for air. "How could she lie to me?"</p><p>"Who, Hermione?" Molly couldn't believe what she was hearing.</p><p>"I don't want to talk about it," Ron whispered. "Can I just stay here for a while?"</p><p>"You can stay as long as you want," Arthur said immediately.</p><p>And stay he did.</p>
<hr/><p>Shimmering white light warmed her cold, cold skin. Her breath misted on the air, a little cloud caught in a fraction of a moment. Goosebumps prickled up all over her skin. Under her clothes, on her face, her neck. her legs, her everywhere. The light wasn't enough. What was enough? No, that wasn't right. Nothing could be enough. Could it? Could nothing also be everything? Was everything nothing when she was surrounded by everything and nothing? The ice seeped deeper, deeper, closer to her core. Would she give up? Would she stay? Would she be able to make it through this winter, this summer, this shimmering white vista that lengthened with her every step?</p><p>It was only a matter of time.</p>
<hr/><p>Hermione awoke with a cry, panting hard. The sheets twisted tightly around her legs. Sweat dripped down her neck. Her hand…her hand was shaking slightly. Next to her, an empty void. Cold. No light filtered through the crack in the curtain. Still night then.</p><p>What was that dream, now playing on the edge of her consciousness, soon to disappear? All she could remember was the cold digging into her. It wasn't any type of cold she'd felt before. Not the same chill as the bitter Hogsmeade days where snow grabbed at her eyelashes and clung to her boots, nor the sharpness of a winter's morning within stone walls. This time it was…everywhere.</p><p>The fleeting memory of the dream finally disappeared, leaving her with only that one clue to wonder about. What a strange occurrence.</p><p>She lay back down, making sure to clutch the duvet tight around her to crush that empty space next to her, and drifted back off to sleep as quickly as she awoke.</p>
<hr/><p>"Miss Granger, I am pleased to let you know that you were successful in gaining the position of Researcher," Helena said joyously, clapping her hands together. "You provided an excellent interview, the likes of which I've never seen before." Helena handed Hermione a letter. "The strange thing is, all of the other candidates suddenly backed out, citing other opportunities they wanted to pursue. It wouldn't have mattered either way, as you were the top candidate, but I do find it quite strange that they all decided to withdraw their applications. It made the process of obliviating them significantly easier, I must admit." She pushed her glasses up her nose.</p><p>"Thank you so much. I won't let you down. And, that is strange," lied Hermione, currently sitting in Helena's office. She'd been called there after work, to pick up her confirmation of employment notice. An unusual decision, sure, but not an unwelcome one. Just being here, surrounded by the archaic magic that hung heavy in the air, spread an infectious joy through her, the kind that made her smile like a loon. "I wonder what happened?"</p><p>"Yes, I wonder?" Helena said knowingly. Hermione gulped. "Now, let's get down to business. You start in two weeks, or as soon as you can resign from your current job. Knowing you, you'll want to get out of there as soon as possible. That place is so drab and boring. I'll brief you on the specifics on the position that I couldn't get into before on your first day. Now," she handed Hermione a thick folder, yellowed parchment spilling out the side. "This is all the current information we have on the portal. It is enchanted so that only you can see it. Anyone else would see gibberish. Don't try to break them, it won't work. Read up on this before you start, so that going over what you're going to be doing will be a breeze."</p><p>Information.</p><p>She was already salivating, itching to pry the folder open and devour the knowledge contained within. The more she had to do, the more she could ignore the cloying thoughts of what she needed to do to fix things with Ron. Throwing herself into work brought a sense of relief and peace sorely missed over the last few days.</p><p>"Of course, I'll definitely do that."</p><p>"I expect no less from you." She suddenly laughed. "You're going to love this job. That portal has been there for such a long time, and nobody could crack it. But with your background in runes and your inquisitive mind, I believe we may finally be able to start understanding what it is."</p><p>Her heart sang from the praise. "Thank you so much. I look forward to working here."</p><p>"Dear, there's no need to be so formal anymore. You're a part of the family. Call me Helena." She stood, coming around the desk and giving Hermione a handshake. "You're going to do great things, Miss Granger, I can smell it."</p><p>It was near impossible to keep herself from skipping down the hallways. The job was hers (even though she knew it would be anyway). She was starting a new chapter in her life. No more waking up in the morning dreading work. No. Now she would wake up in the morning with a pep in her step. How could she not when she had the world's most interesting, challenging, mysterious job?</p><p>Soon, she found herself back in her old department. The place seemed so small now. Compared to the winding corridors leading to the portal, this place was…simple. A box, with a smaller box off the side. Did she really waste four months of her life hand-writing pamphlets? What a fool she was for that.</p><p>Walking through the desks towards her boss's office was the most satisfying thing she'd ever done. Handing her two-weeks notice over with a flourish and seeing his cheeks redden in anger? Even more so. The man hated losing employees, especially those who worked well, such as herself. He couldn't do much more than wish her well through gritted teeth. If looks could kill, though, she would be dead as a doorknob.</p><p>Lucky for her they didn't.</p><p>She waited outside for Marcy's shift to finish. It was only another ten minutes, a time easily elapsed by thinking, theorising, wondering about that mysterious arched portal. What was its purpose? Who made it? Why was it there? Those questions would all be answered soon enough. With her on the job, how could they not be? If there was one thing she was good at (and she was good at many, many things) it was solving a situation thoroughly.</p><p>Marcy marched out, scowling, exactly on time. Punctual as per usual.</p><p>"Hermione!" she cried out, engulfing her in a crushing hug. "I knew you'd do it! You look so much happier already."</p><p>"I am. I definitely am."</p><p>"Now, you stay in contact, alright? Just because you're now some fancy researcher doesn't mean you get to leave me behind," laughed Marcy. "Oh, I'm so happy for you. You look alive again."</p><p>"One day, I'll be on the other side of the conversation. I'm coming to your first show, I promise."</p><p>"I'll hold you up on that."</p>
<hr/><p>Molasses.</p><p>The next two weeks were molasses.</p><p>Every single moment was like wading through a never-ending sea of sludge. And every second, the excitement grew. This only served to make every moment stretch even longer. Any more, she thought bitterly, and it would snap altogether. Wouldn't that be funny, time breaking? In a way, that had already been done, with the shattering of the Time-Turners deep within the Department of Mysteries.</p><p>She sighed, opening the thick folder once more. The information inside was long ago committed to memory. It didn't take her long. For three days straight, she did nothing other than read it. Every spare minute was devoted to that infernal folder. Not even Loki could pull her away from it. Many an hour of sleep was lost. Dark bags, hidden by a simple cosmetics spell, took residence under her eyes. All this for the folder.</p><p>The folder that turned out to be rather disappointing.</p><p>Everything contained within it, every letter, report, random little finding, was the same information repeated ten-fold. Different wording wasn't going to fool her. The age of the portal was unknown, estimated to be around fifteen-hundred years old. <em>Wrong. </em>It contained an immense power of unknowable bounds, contained by the runes of ancient druids in an undeciphered language. Over time, newer wards and runes have been added to stop it from spreading further. <em>True, though the new runes could be clashing with the old and making it even worse. </em>No attempts to decipher the runes have been successful, no one knows where it goes or what it's for, it's super volatile, it's incredibly old.</p><p>Over and over. On and on. Nothing new to learn between pages, no matter how hard she read at it. Everything was surface level. Everything, she already knew. Were these previous researchers fools? Or were they not looking in the right places? Who knew? Only them. Not that it mattered now.</p><p>The lack of information surrounding it didn't serve to dull her passion. No, quite the opposite. It meant there was more to find out. She was going to be on the forefront, on the edge, finding out things never known before. Knowledge lost to the throes of time. It would be in her hands, her brain.</p><p>No better place for it to be.</p>
<hr/><p>Day by day, the guilt grew, threatening to drown her in a frothing sea, screams muted by the bottomless pit of shame and black, black hatred for herself.</p>
<hr/><p>Finally, the day arrived.</p><p>She awoke bright and early. So early that the sun was barely beginning to peek over the horizon. After changing into clothes picked out the night before, she smiled fondly, before skipping downstairs.</p><p>Literally skipping.</p><p>Nothing could serve to put her in a bad mood today, nothing at all.</p><p>Her new bottomless bag, far more professional than the beaded purple one, sat waiting on the table. Everything was packed the night before. Breakfast, the folder, parchment, quills, reference books, anything you could name that had even the remotest connection to her job was there. She quickly double-checked it. This didn't count the quadruple check of the night before. There was no crime in being prepared.</p><p>A quick check in the mirror was last on her to-do list. Her hair was pulled back into a smart braid, smoothed to avoid any extra frizz. Smart clothes, similar to her interview one but not as formal, hung elegantly off her frame.</p><p>Perfect.</p><p>With the bag over her shoulder and wand secured within its holster, she turned on her heel and disappeared with a loud <em>crack</em>!</p>
<hr/><p>This early in the morning the Grand Atrium of the ministry was practically deserted. Only those returning home from night shifts or particularly enthusiastic about their jobs roamed the vast hall. Hermione was the only one with a smile plastered on her face. Everyone she passed received a beaming smile and a wave. To say they were bemused was an understatement.</p><p>She arrived in Helena's office at exactly ten past seven. Said woman sat at her desk, scratching away at a fresh sheet of parchment. She looked up as Hermione entered.</p><p>"You're here significantly earlier than I anticipated. I guess that enthusiasm is an excellent motivator." She put her quill down, walking around the desk. Today, she glittered even more than usual, wearing a shawl that resembled molten silver. "Let's go and get you briefed, and then you can start."</p><p>"Of course."</p><p>"There's no need to be so formal, 'kay?" She opened the door and started leading Hermione through the halls. "You're a part of the family. Treat me like an old friend, I can't stand for unnecessary formality."</p><p>"If you say so, I suppose." She bit her lip. It would take a long time to abide by those wishes. Luckily, most of her time would be spent in the portal room. Hopefully, there would be a desk near it for her note-taking.</p><p>"I insist."</p><p>They soon arrived at the familiar door. She deeply breathed in, that intoxicating scent of pure, concentrated magic you only found around ancient places like this. To be surrounded by this, day after day…it was a dream come true. A dream she was going to be living. Even though she knew it was real, sometimes she still dreaded waking up.</p><p>But as they stepped in and pure, unfiltered <em>magic </em>washed over her in a heavy wave, she knew it was real.</p><p>"So, you read the folder?"</p><p>"Of course, many times over." Better not to mention she found it almost useless and endlessly frustrating.</p><p>"How did you find it?"</p><p>Ah. "It was barely informative beyond what I already knew. All the information was repeated with different wording. No matter how hard I looked, there was nothing more to find."</p><p>"Good."</p><p>"I'm sorry?"</p><p>Helena smiled. "You listened to the facts and knew that there wasn't much there, rather than trying to fabricate false information to please me. Plus, you were honest with me. Though I value informality, I expect honesty with your findings. Hide anything from me and I will know."</p><p>"Of course."</p><p>The portal beckoned her.</p><p>"I'll leave you to it. If you need anything, you know where to find me." And with that, she swished out of the room, leaving Hermione alone with the portal. The gentle shutting of the door echoed eerily around the chamber.</p><p>That slight wind from before picked up again. Thick white fog swirled around the base of the portal. Everything from her visit before seemed to be amplifying already. How fascinating. Even the whispers were louder, faster, coming from every direction.</p><p><em>I've missed you, </em>it said, <em>come and visit.</em></p><p>"I know you're not real," she said. It was different this time. Smooth like velvet, unfamiliar.</p><p><em>How are you going to prove that? You're hearing me, aren't you? Wasn't it you who said that voices in this world are always to be taken seriously? Or was that so many years that you've forgotten, buried it within your arrogance? I wouldn't be surprised. </em>The deep voice twined around her mind, slithering like a snake.</p><p>"I have not forgotten, nor buried it. And I am not arrogant. Now, if you would please leave me alone, I have a job to do," she huffed, pulling out her notebook and pen. "I'll get to you later. Shoo. Go away."</p><p><em>As you wish, </em>it laughed. <em>I'll be around.</em></p><p>"Away. Go. Now. I've got work to do."</p><p>And so, she settled down for her first day in the rune-etched chamber of black stone, recording all the runes in her little notebook.</p><p>The best part? No more wrist cramping because of bosses who didn't allow magic on the job.</p><p>
  <em>Score!</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>"I'm going to miss you, you know that?" Hermione sniffed. Getting so emotional over Loki leaving wasn't something expected to happen. After Ron's departure (completely justified, whispered that voice in the back of her mind), he moved into the spare room and became her main source of comfort. Never pushed her to do anything she didn't want to, yet remained the same smug bastard.</p><p>She was going to miss his constant snarky remarks, the sarcasm that grated on her nerves, their in-depth conversations about anything and everything. Having him around for so long was an experience of the best kind.</p><p>"I am quite aware, given your pathetic snivelling," he said. "Though I must admit, your presence is…nice as well." He smoothed down his hair. Decked out in full Asgardian attire, the copied rune from their night in London contained within his 'dimensional pocket' (Hermione liked to call it an upgraded handbag, much to Loki's chagrin) it was finally hitting home he was leaving.</p><p>"You say that like you're not the one who travels here through secret pathways," she laughed. "How long will it be before you can come back?"</p><p>"I would estimate around a year at the most. The Allfather believes I had a reason for this trip, and I have been shielded from Heimdall's gaze." He took a step back. "But yes, I will miss you. You are my one true friend. This month has been an appreciated break from the useless feasts and tales of Asgard."</p><p>"I can imagine."</p><p>"I must leave now, but I will be back." He shook her hand. "Until we meet again, Little Witch."</p><p>He disappeared in a shimmer of green, a gentle smile playing on his lips, teleporting to the entrance of the nearest secret pathway.</p><p>Silence immediately filled the lounge.</p><p>That familiar ache began building in her chest, that slow coal burn of missing someone. It was true, she would miss him immensely, but in a year they would see each other again, get up to the same shenanigans, learn so much together. It was better than two years.</p><p>Time to start counting down the days.</p>
<hr/><p>The portal frame loomed above her.</p><p>Currently, Hermione lay on her back, recording what was quite possibly the final rune before the moved onto categorising the mess that was the ward-stones. This tricky one lay in a small crevice carved into the decrepit archway. From the groove, it looked like it may come from a knife or scythe of some sort. Definitely from a weapon with a single sharpened side, aided by magic. This stone was incredibly tough, no normal blade could cut through it without help.</p><p>Over the last two weeks of studying the runes, she discovered slight signs of what she studied at school. A line here, a curve there. The language the druids wrote in, the runes saturated with magic, were so different, yet so familiar. One day, possibly years into the future, she would understand them, easy as breathing.</p><p>Her little notebook was filled to the brim, magically expanded to have the perfect amount of pages. She took a good, hard look at the last one, illuminated by the cold light of a Lumos charm, and shimmied out. There. It was written down. Every last rune in the room was categorised.</p><p>She swiped loose rubble off her pants, snapping the notebook shut. Today was going to be a good day. Today, the tapestry would stitch together, all beginning with her admitting her terrible, terrible actions.</p><p><em>That took longer than I expected, </em>the voice whispered. <em>I thought better of you.</em></p><p>"Stop talking. I don't need to hear that." Secretly, she was thankful for the distraction, for her mind once again began filling with thoughts of everything that could go wrong. Was it too late? Has she left it too long? Would her words be enough to reverse the damage?</p><p>
  <em>Oh, but I think you do.</em>
</p><p>A sound like a fire roaring to life suddenly filled the room. She whirled around, dropping the notebook in absolute shock.</p><p>The portal.</p><p>How?</p><p>How was this happening?</p><p>This was impossible.</p><p>It was supposed to be impossible.</p><p>The portal which had been inactive for millennia was…working. On its own. Out of absolute nowhere. It was a miracle! An absolute miracle. Helena was going to be ecstatic when Hermione told her the news.</p><p>A purple sheen, delicate to the touch, translucent, waving slightly in a phantom breeze, filled the archway. Heat kissed her exposed arms, even when she was standing on the edge of the chamber. With every step she took closer, it became more intense. Every step closer, purple sparks started hissing and spitting. A low humming noise joined the roaring fire. Dangerous, predatory, everything about it screaming to stay away.</p><p>"This is incredible," she breathed, stepping ever closer. The heat began prickling, on the edge of painful.</p><p><em>Indeed it is, </em>the voice taunted. <em>Wouldn't you like to see more?</em></p><p>"I couldn't say." The throes of awe rendered her unable to speak more than simple sentences. Around her feet, the phantom wind picked up, stronger than usual. She was too busy gawking to pay attention to it.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, but I think you could. Why don't I give you a taste, hmm?</em>
</p><p>"What are you talking about?" She asked. "You're a voi―AAAGGHH!"</p><p>In a millisecond, the phantom wind grabbed at her ankles, impossibly tight, impossibly painful, dragging her towards the portal. She slammed into the ground, wind getting knocked out of her immediately. A gash opened on her cheek. Her wand clattered out of her hand, out of reach. "No!" Rough rocks scraped at her arms, face, any exposed skin, stinging as stones lodged themselves within the scrapes. "LET GO OF ME!" She flailed her legs, scraping at her ankle with her foot, desperate to get the wind off her, away from her, out of reach.</p><p>The fire, the heat, OH GOD THE HEAT. It burned her skin, blistered, scorched, the closer she came to the shimmering purple light the more it rose.</p><p>"PLEASE!" she screamed. "PLEASE, STOP THIS! I'M BURNING!" Indescribable agony, she was burning, oh Merlin she was burning. Her feet, her legs, her torso. Clothes turned to ash, a thousand white-hot knives stabbed into her all at once. She screamed out again, throat tearing up. If only someone would hear her. Helena. Where was Helena?</p><p>"HELE―"</p><p>Then nothing came out. She was blazing all over, in so much pain she couldn't speak, couldn't make a noise, yet she was screaming out in agony, invisible flames licking at her skin, falling through an endless purple, so bright, so bright, no smell, no hearing, no taste, but burning, burning, BURNING!</p><p>And then nothing.</p>
<hr/><p>The key turned in the door. Ron breathed a sigh of relief. So the locks hadn't been changed. Good. That at least meant he could get in. True, if the locks didn't work a simple <em>Alohomora </em>would do the trick, and if that failed apparating in would be no trouble at all. Hermione hadn't removed him from the wards which prevented most people from performing these tasks.</p><p>He pushed the door open and stepped into the entranceway. Coats hung on the hooks on the wall, the colourful lounge peeked around the corner, and the kitchen sat off to the right. Still exactly the same then.</p><p>After nearly two months, it was time to come back and sort things out. He put if off, pushing it further and further away, until he had to reluctantly admit to himself that he missed her. Hurt as he was, broken as his trust is, he missed her. Her gentle words, her stealing the duvet, her hilarious attempts at trying to cook. The laughter, the tears, the hours where she rambled on about anything and he sat, content to listen to whatever she had to say.</p><p>He missed it.</p><p>He missed her.</p><p>"Hermione?" he tentatively called out, placing his bag on the floor. "You home?" What he wouldn't give to sweep her into his arms and just hold her, content in knowing that she was there. Sure, there were things to sort out. They'd be sorted out soon enough.</p><p>It wasn't meant to be.</p><p>Seems she wasn't home. A bit strange, as Wednesdays were when she got off early and spent the evening reading in her study. She was very strict in her routine.</p><p>Now that he thought about it, the house looked slightly off. Blankets were askew, a mug of tea sat on the counter, long cold. A thin layer of dust sat on the furniture. Something was very wrong here.</p><p>"Hermione? Come on, this isn't funny anymore."</p><p>Silence answered back.</p><p>And silence was all that would ever answer.</p>
<hr/><p>Loki bent over the ill-used rune book, eyes wide in shock.</p><p>This was unexpected. The reference Hermione had given him was here. An ancient Asgardian rune, forgotten by time, was here. Yet somehow it was on Earth, carved into a portal. There was a history behind that, perhaps history erased or lost to time. He would find out. He was nothing if not thorough.</p><p>What made it even stranger was that it had two vastly different translations: 'Eternity' and 'Prison.' How were those related?</p><p>This would require more time, he decided. After all, he promised her he'd look into it, and he never broke a promise to those that he loved.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Potential Triggers: </p><p>Relationship Problems/Arguments<br/>Home Break-In<br/>Mugging/Knife Crime</p><p>If there are any else that you find, please let me know and I will include it.</p><p>+++</p><p>Oh wow, was that a long one to write. I've been working hard on this for the last month, and couldn't be happier with it. :D I hope you enjoyed it. It makes me so happy. Things are going to start getting real in the next chapter, and by the end of chapter four there will be some Avengers stuff going on, so keep an eye out for that.</p><p>Writing this makes me so happy. I really, really hope that you enjoyed it.</p><p>I also have a discord server :D If you want to join, here is the link: https://discord.gg/uf6YFgdmgr</p><p>Sincerely,<br/>Mariadoria</p><p>:D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>White.</p>
<p>It was white.</p>
<p>Bone-chilling cold clung onto her body like a second skin. Shivers wracked her frame, violent tremors that would never stop, could never stop, how could they stop when she was slowly freezing to death?</p>
<p>It was white and cold but there was no snow. There was nothing around her. Or was there? Things were merely illusions, nothing existed. Not here, not now, not when there was nothing and everything all at the same time.</p>
<p>Burning.</p>
<p>Red hot pain flashed through her body. A memory? But what of? Pain, that was for sure, but there was something else…something big that she was missing. How long ago was that? It was definitely her. The memory was so vivid, so clear, it couldn't belong to anyone else. Burning was the only thing bouncing around her vacant mind. Nothing else. She…she couldn't remember anything else, other than pure pain and where she was now.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter if they are needed.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Trigger warnings at the bottom fo the chapter, if you want them.</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>White.</p>
<p>It was white.</p>
<p>Bone-chilling cold clung onto her body like a second skin. Shivers wracked her frame, violent tremors that would never stop, could never stop, how could they stop when she was slowly freezing to death?</p>
<p>It was white and cold but there was no snow. There was nothing around her. Or was there? Things were merely illusions, nothing existed. Not here, not now, not when there was nothing and everything all at the same time.</p>
<p>
  <em>Burning.</em>
</p>
<p>Red hot pain flashed through her body. A memory? But what of? Pain, that was for sure, but there was something else…something big that she was missing. How long ago was that? It was definitely her. The memory was so vivid, so clear, it couldn't belong to anyone else. <em>Burning </em>was the only thing bouncing around her vacant mind. Nothing else. She…she couldn't remember anything else, other than pure pain and where she was now.</p>
<p>Another shiver ran through her. A jacket. She needed to get a jacket. Or a blanket, something warm to wrap around her. Maybe even a duvet…</p>
<p>
  <em>Laughter, as she dragged it closer to her side, kicking away the offending body. "Not tonight! For once I am going to have this duvet, and you can't do anything about it!"</em>
</p>
<p>Who was that? Someone so cheerful, full of light? All she knew was cold, was white, was burning. Those three things made up who she was. Defined her. And there was no way to advance it. With nothing to question, nothing to look at except an endless white vista, nothing to feel except ice.</p>
<p>
  <em>Hermione.</em>
</p>
<p>Hermione?</p>
<p>Could that perhaps be her name?</p>
<p>"Hermione." The name tasted familiar on her tongue. It had to be her own name, her own identity. No, it was more than that. It was a doorway to a million memories that suddenly flooded back into her mind, her body, her soul.</p>
<p>
  <em>Burning.</em>
</p>
<p>Her head was burning up.</p>
<p>Image after image, familiar faces somehow forgotten, forced their way back in. There was Harry, with his brave heart and selfless nature. Ron, with his fierce loyalty and brilliantly tactical mind. Loki, with his sharp words and endless interest. Hogwarts rising above her as she crossed the lake for the first time. A troll smashing up the bathroom, a snake with burning yellow eyes rounding a corner and freezing her with one acid glare. On and on and on, everything she'd ever done, ever was, ever could be.</p>
<p>Every single memory crawling back in until she was whole again.</p>
<p>"AGGHH!" She screamed out, nails digging deep into her scalp. This was too much.</p>
<p>No. It couldn't be. Push through, push through it, make it out the other side.</p>
<p>She needed those memories, those memories would keep her going, remind her of who she was. She was more than white and cold and burning. More than this room with everything and nothing at the same time.</p>
<p>She was Hermione Granger and she remembered everything.</p>
<p>The Portal sucking her through, the agonising burning, that velvet voice. Tantalising, drawing her closer, into this trap.</p>
<p>The pain subsided into a distant throbbing. Hermione released her head, choking back a sob as hot, salty tears spilled down her face. She'd fallen for a trick. A simple trick a child could have seen coming. The brilliant mind she knew herself to have couldn't see through the fallacy, couldn't see what was coming.</p>
<p>And now she was here, wherever here was. Trapped in what appeared to be limbo, freezing to death. She reached for her wand to perform a warming charm, only to find there was nothing there. Her wand.</p>
<p>No.</p>
<p><em>No</em>.</p>
<p>It was gone, lying on the floor of the portal chamber. The sound of it clattering onto the ground haunted her, taunted her. So stupid, so, so stupid.</p>
<p>A shimmering white light, warm, comforting, suddenly shone down onto her skin. The relief was instant. Oh, that was nice. That was very nice. She could sit here forever, surrounded by the relief. It sounded nice. Yes, that would be nice...</p>
<p>No.</p>
<p>She was Hermione Granger. She wouldn't have frozen to death. If anyone could find a way to survive, to escape, it was her. Becoming stuck in here wasn't going to happen. With the warm light guiding her, keeping her alive, a way out would be found, and soon. This was a trap. There was always a way out of traps, no matter how lock tight their creators believe them to be.</p>
<p>She wouldn't sit by and let herself become a yearning husk, dreaming of escape and never acting on them. That wasn't going to happen. She was the one who took control of her own life. Never a drifter, always ploughing forward. At the forefront of everything she did. Everything she would do.</p>
<p>So what, she was in an ancient trap? She'd find a way out. Then she would study it, all the while blocking out that infernal whispering voice.</p>
<p>Yes, that sounded like an adequate plan.</p>
<p><em>That's quaint. </em>There it was again. Even here, it followed her.</p>
<p>"You haven't won. You never will. I will get out of here and make you regret your decision," she said calmly, far more serene than the brooding storm on the inside.</p>
<p>
  <em>You may think tha―</em>
</p>
<p>It was...gone. Huh. Cut off in the middle of a word like a malfunctioning speaker. Not that she was complaining.</p>
<p>A blinding light burst out of nowhere. Hermione yelped and covered her eyes, leaping down to the ground as it grew ever brighter. It wormed through her arms, her clenched eyelids, painting them a glowing red. The veins crisscrossed like a labyrinth.</p>
<p>Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, the light retracted. She peeled her arms back, blinking vigorously. What was this place? Wait...what?</p>
<p>A foot. There was a foot in front of her. She followed it up, revealing a person, frozen in motion. A woman, with thick fur robes, gnarled staff in her hand. Her face was stressed like she was in the middle of yelling out a command in battle. Except, she was a statue. Trapped in a single moment.</p>
<p>There were more. Thousands of them as far as the eye could see. Men and women, from every age, clothes ranging from ancient to modern. All of them motionless. Eyes glazed over. Life-sized dolls.</p>
<p><em>What the hell. </em>Okay, this was creepy. Time to investigate.</p>
<p>Hermione waved her hand in front of the woman's eyes. No reaction whatsoever. She did it again, double-checking. Same result. Ten other statues followed this example. No amount of pinching and prodding, speaking to them, even attempting to topple them over, garnered any recognition of her presence. It was simply as if time had frozen around them. They were definitely real, the detail on their skin was impeccable. Not to mention that they were somehow warm, despite the frigid atmosphere. Almost as if their hearts were still beating beneath their exterior.</p>
<p>It was a struggle that Hermione related to intimately. The memory of the basilisk in her second year, though no longer keeping her up at night, still sent a shiver through her occasionally. This wasn't petrification, though. When she'd been petrified, her skin was cold to the touch. This was something else altogether.</p>
<p>"Okay, calm down Hermione. Everything is going to be alright." Talking to herself. That was new. But among these endless living statues, it gave her a mite of comfort. Something to distract her from the cold, still there despite the light.</p>
<p>She began walking among them. This place was unlike anything she'd ever seen before. It was endless, white, nothing but that and these people. There were Victorians, ancient druids, everything. Women and men, reaching towards something unattainable. How long had they been here like this?</p>
<p>
  <em>How long would she be here like this?</em>
</p>
<p>Wait.</p>
<p>They all had something in common. On the top of their left hand was a faint tattoo, almost faded. A rune of some sort...no. It couldn't be. But it was. The tattoo was the rune she sent to Asgard with Loki, familiar swishes forever burned onto the back of her eyelids. And it was on the back of their left hands.</p>
<p>She began trembling, fighting the urge to glance down at her hand. Yet her eyes flickered down.</p>
<p>There, on the back of her hand, was a pitch dark runic tattoo, same as the statues around her.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Wandering through this forest of people was exhausting. At first, her curiosity about the differences kept her going. Kept her distracted from the tattoo. The tattoo she hadn't even glanced at since the first look. She refused to think about it. Even the slightest foray over in that direction sent her mind spiralling. Why did the statues have tattoos? How long had they been here? Was that eventually going to happen to her?</p>
<p>"Get a grip, Hermione," she hissed to no one in particular. It wasn't like there was anyone around to hear her. Just people, seemingly frozen in time. Was that eventually going to happen to her? Would she wander for eternity, feeling her limbs slowly freezing, unable to anything but wait for her demise?</p>
<p>Stop!</p>
<p><em>Not so fun now, is it?</em> Taunted the voice. <em>I thought you wanted to know what the 'Portal' was? Well, here you are. Don't be so ungrateful.</em></p>
<p>"Get out of my head," she growled. "GET OUT!" Yelling. Why was she yelling? That wasn't who she was, not without a lot of reason.</p>
<p>
  <em>Don't go losing it. You've only been here for a day.</em>
</p>
<p>"It hasn't been that long," she scoffed. "It's only a few hours. I know how to tell the time." No reply came. She waited. Nothing. Only silence, the same crushing silence surrounding her ever since her arrival. It was so quiet she almost wanted the infuriating voice to return. Something to relieve the pounding of her heart, the blood rushing in her ears, her everlasting footsteps.</p>
<p>"Hello?"</p>
<p>Nothing.</p>
<p>This place was terrible. Already, Hermione was questioning herself, who she was and what she wanted. What did she want? To research the portal and have control of her life. Some of Ron's lamb roast. A hug from her parents. To see that soft smile on Loki's face. Harry's sarcastic comments.</p>
<p>And so she kept wandering, unable to do anything but think. Reading through textbooks in her mind, going over memories so she wouldn't forget them again. Never, ever again.</p>
<p>Move forward.</p>
<p>Keep moving forward, Hermione.</p>
<p>Eventually, the faces began to blur into one mess. No longer could she differentiate between male and female, between race, between age. They were all the same. The same face, repeating over and over. Was she going mad? No, she wouldn't let that happen. Not on her watch.</p>
<p>"Help!"</p>
<p>A muffled voice, as if spoken through half-shut lips, reached her ears. Sluggishly, she turned her head around, heavily-lidded eyes surveying the identical blur of faces before her. Was someone there? No movement to be found. It must be her mind playing tricks on her. She moved to continue walking, when:</p>
<p>"Please!" A slight cracking noise followed the plea. "I don't want to die here!" A sob, ugly sniffles, voice cracks. "Please…"</p>
<p>No way was she imagining that.</p>
<p>There was someone here.</p>
<p>
  <em>She wasn't alone.</em>
</p>
<p>"Where are you?" she called out, straightening her hunched back. When did she become so bent over, feet dragging on the floor? "I'm here, I'll help you!"</p>
<p>"Your left. I'm on your left! Please, be quick." Another cracking sound.</p>
<p>The faces unblurred one by one. She rubbed her eyes. This was unnerving. The cold began worming its way back in again. The voice, the new one, was close-by, hiding behind one of the figurines...but where?</p>
<p>There!</p>
<p>The slightest movement caught her eye. A wiggle of a finger. After so much stillness, it was like an earthquake rocking the land. Who was it? She weaved through the figures, drawing ever closer to the slight hiccups.</p>
<p>Hermione rounded a statue, now extremely close to where the voice had been. There was no one in sight, no movement. Only the statue in front of her lying down on the ground, arms outstretched, crawling along the ground, twitching fingers pulling it along―</p>
<p>"Help," it, <em>she, </em>groaned, barely audible.</p>
<p>Hermione couldn't help the horrified gasp that slipped out of her mouth.</p>
<p>She was alive, tattoo on the back of her left hand, joints creaking, and freezing together until she would become nothing more than a living statue. How long had she been here? How did this take? <em>How long until this would be her?</em> She shook the thought away.</p>
<p>"How long have you been here?" she asked, gently pressing down on her legs, checking for any joint mobility. There was none. From the waist down, she was essentially turned to stone, heat steadily pulsing beneath the hardened skin. Her spine only bent slightly, eliciting a pained groan. Hermione drew her fingers back, reducing the pressure. The arms bent ninety degrees at the elbows, like the protractor she had in primary school. Nothing in her shoulders though, and her head was stuck gazing towards the sky.</p>
<p>"Too…long…" The words came from near-frozen lips. "Help…me."</p>
<p>"How can I help? I'll do anything I can." A crazy train filled with hundreds of ideas and possibilities rocketed through her brain at a million miles an hour. There had to be something she could do to save this poor soul, to help her, give her any kind of relief from this torture. And that's what it was, torture. A slow, elongated process. Hermione could only imagine the horrors, the things she didn't know about it. The things she <em>didn't want to know </em>about it.</p>
<p>"Let me…look at…you." Painful grit wormed into the words like sandpaper was rubbing at the back of the woman's throat. "I'm going…to die. Let me…look at you…and talk…with you."</p>
<p>Hermione grasped her arms and gently flipped her over. Her legs protruded upwards, neck arched, arms above her head. She swallowed back another horrified gasp. She wouldn't wish this fate on anyone. She had to help. Had to do <em>something.</em></p>
<p>"There's got to be something more I can do for you," she pleaded. "Let me do something."</p>
<p>A shuddering gasp. "Just let me look…at you. There's nothing…you can…do."</p>
<p>No. That couldn't be right. There was a remedy for this somewhere. If she looked deeper a second option would present itself, slapping her in the face with how obvious it was. Some obscure magical method that could reverse time, release joints, unstick bones, relax the muscle!</p>
<p>She yanked her wand out of her holster. Only…there was nothing there. No wand, no holster. Bare, clean skin. She dropped her wand in the portal chamber. If only she'd remembered that sooner.</p>
<p>"Please, tell me how I can help you!" she cried out. <em>Useless. </em>Unable to do anything. Without a wand, without potions, without rational thought, she was reduced to a husk of herself, a husk of who she should be, who she was. There had to be something…something.</p>
<p>"Just…talk." Her voice began fading out. "I…want to…hear your…voice. Know…I'm not going…crazy." It was a mere whisper now. Lips began freezing into stone.</p>
<p>"What's your name?"</p>
<p>"Nadia…"</p>
<p>"Okay, okay, Nadia, I'm here," Hermione said, still pressing all over the woman's body. A weak point maybe. A place to start loosening up her limbs. But if there were so many people around, all suffering from the same fate, was there really a way to save her? No one in here had ever escaped. All the hours of mindless wandering taught her that much. "I'll stay here. I'll talk. What do you want me to talk about?"</p>
<p>"Any…thing."</p>
<p>"Okay, well, let me tell you the story of my years at Hogwarts. It all started when I was attacked by a troll…" and so she went on, telling the story of her years at Hogwarts, quelling the tears threatening to fall. As she spoke, she desperately tried to think of something to save this poor woman. Her body kept creaking, kept on stiffening, and nothing Hermione did could stop it. The magic contained within this hellish plain was utterly endless. It spilled out of cracked runes, filtering through her entire department. If that's how powerful it was out there, what was it in here?</p>
<p>"The…rift. Look for…the rift…" the woman suddenly said, interrupting Hermione in the middle of her third year.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry?"</p>
<p>"You can…get out. Find…the rift…" Her voice trailed off into nothing, into silence, into failure. Eyes turned glassy, fingers no longer twitched. "Thank..you…" Stiff. Completely stiff. Warm as the figures around her, still as a rock in a field. Dead on the outside, still living on the inside. Petrified for eternity, no cure, no nothing.</p>
<p>No.</p>
<p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p>
<p>That couldn't be it. Nadia couldn't be gone, just like that, frozen within her own body. Hermione needed to do something, needed to think of something.</p>
<p>Useless.</p>
<p>
  <em>Helpless.</em>
</p>
<p>Clinging onto the fraying illusion of thinking herself selfless.</p>
<p>This woman was trapped in the prison of her own body for eternity and Hermione had watched as it happened, talked and talked and talked, held the woman's still hand, tried to think of a way to save her but come up with nothing, done nothing, done nothing, just sat there and watched. She claimed herself to be brilliant, knew she was brilliant, yet her 'so-called' brilliant mind was a blank page waited to be written on but the pen had no ink. <em>Nothing. </em>Nothing.</p>
<p>
  <em>Nothing.</em>
</p>
<p>Hot tears, laced with frustration, guilt, <em>terror</em>, leaked from her eyes, sliding slowly down her cheek. Fists clenched so tight her nails dug into her palm, leaving little half-moon indents. She was a solitary leaf clinging to a branch in a winter storm, shaking, quaking, unable to control her own movements.</p>
<p><em>Are you seeing yet, </em>the voice asked. <em>Are you seeing what you are now?</em></p>
<p>"Stop it. Get out of my head." Not this again. Anything but the voice again.</p>
<p><em>Oh, but there's nowhere else for me to be. Everyone else in here is gone, lost to time. My dear, you are the only one left.</em> A cruel chuckle ricocheted around her head, booming like a canon yet silent as a feather. Over and over, repeating left right and centre, all she could hear.</p>
<p>"I'll get out of here," she snarled, a sudden resolve twisting around her heart. "You won't take me as you took her!" She gulped in a great breath of air through her tears. "Why did you take her? Why!"</p>
<p>
  <em>Everyone is in here for a reason, including you. You have a purpose here. So did she.</em>
</p>
<p>"I don't care about your purpose for me!" Hermione stood, welcoming the cracking of dried tears on her skin as she yelled, "You have NO RIGHT! No right to take me, no right to take her!"</p>
<p>
  <em>You're angry? How cute. Did you also consider that I might have a purpose as well?</em>
</p>
<p>"I don't care!"</p>
<p>No reply.</p>
<p>Once again, the suffocating silence slithered down, caressing her, pressing cotton wool into her ears. No creaking of bones, only her heartbeat, the steady <em>kudunk kudunk </em>that reassured her she was alive. But was it worth living for this white, white silence?</p>
<p>"I don't care…"</p>
<p>Fury lashed through her veins. Angry. She had to stay angry. Staying angry would remind her of Nadia, of her failure, of what it was to be human. Feeling anything, even white-hot anger, was better than slipping back into that zombified state where all she did was wander, faces blurring into one mass that followed her everywhere she went. This place, it leeched who you were, played with your mind until you knew nothing different.</p>
<p>Knew nothing except white and cold and endless wandering.</p>
<p>"The rift. I've got to find the rift." The silence, for even a few seconds, reared back at the sound of her voice like a feral animal. "It's my way out." Speaking thoughts out loud. Now that was another good way to keep herself focussed. Keep speaking, word after word after word. Mix it with her anger, create emotions where her body and mind were begging to be relieved of them. She sure as hell wasn't going to waste Nadia's last words. Wasn't going to let her petrification be in vain.</p>
<p>"Thank you, Nadia," she said, brushing a hand through her hair. "I'll find it, I swear I will." Nothing. Hermione vowed to always remember this woman, who used her dying breath to give her a chance to escape this place when she knew her own death was coming.</p>
<p>She had to move on.</p>
<p>Clambering to her feet, coming to terms with her own failure, leaving Nadia behind on the ground, left a hole in her heart large enough to fit a coin.</p>
<p>"Don't let them blend," she said, staring intensely at the faces. With every footstep, every plodding footstep, she kept her eyes peeled for a crack. Kept her mind whirling, theory after theory, clinging onto that anger, that resolve.</p>
<p>It had to be somewhere near otherwise Nadia wouldn't have seen it. "Her limbs were already locking up, and had been for a long time. With them in that state, she couldn't have walked very far." Her brain kicked into a higher gear. "If there's a way out, it must not be as stable as I previously thought. The runes were being refreshed regularly to contain the spread of magic outside. Collapsing, perhaps?"</p>
<p>A glimmer of gold, stark against the white, twinkled merrily in the corner of her eye. She whipped around, locking on to a ginormous golden crack hanging in the air a mere ten feet away. No statues surround it, a large circle at least ten feet in diameter spreading outwards. It flickered and swayed, almost like a desert mirage. Was it real?</p>
<p>"It has to be," she whispered. She heard a faint creaking noise, like Nadia's limbs had. Was there someone around here? Carefully, she glanced around, wincing as her neck twinged.</p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p>It was her.</p>
<p>
  <em>No, not yet. She hadn't even been here for that long.</em>
</p>
<p>She had to get out of here now, before she suffered the fate of everyone else around her.</p>
<p>And fast.</p>
<p>"How do I do this?" Closer and closer she came to the jagged golden line, reaching a trembling hand out towards it.</p>
<p>Her fingers made contact with the crack. A light warmed danced between her fingers. It was such a stark contrast from the bitter, bone-chilling cold of before that she laughed. Actually laughed. She swished her hand around, so happy she barely noticed the tingling sensation slowly crawling up her outstretched arm until it reached her shoulder.</p>
<p>A brief moment of panic flashed, but that was all she could manage before blinding gold light overtook her vision and she lost consciousness.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Not seeing Hermione for months was...hard.</p>
<p>Without her sharp wit, her idiotic sense of humour and heartwarming laughter, life around Asgard became unbearably dull. Always the same thing, day after day. Meetings, princely duties, being picked on by Sif and the Warriors Three. The same routine, everything seeming so fake. Everyone so arrogant. Hermione truly changed Loki for the better, something he only now began to realise.</p>
<p>Months after leaving her, this truth became more pronounced with every passing day. And with every passing day, he found the ache her lack of presence caused growing, gnawing at his heart, making him hollow. Her friendship seemed the only real thing. The days passed slowly, with him never seeming to find the opportunity to slip away. Odin's hold on him, as much as he resented it, only increased with each passing week.</p>
<p>Today, a balmy Tuesday afternoon, found him sequestered in the library once again, feverishly searching for any reference to that elusive rune. Every book he turned over, every scroll he opened, only contained the same information.</p>
<p>
  <em>Eternity, Prison.</em>
</p>
<p>Nothing more, nothing less. Almost as if all record of it had been erased from history. But such a thing was not possible, so there had to be some other explanation. Perhaps it was used only once, being overtaken by far more effective runes? No, that couldn't be it. There wouldn't be such widespread mention of it if it was only used once.</p>
<p>This mystery plagued his every waking moment, every nightmare and daydream, slowly spiralling into an obsession. He made a promise to Hermione that he would find the meaning, whether it be today or in two years. By Odin's beard, he wouldn't fail her.</p>
<p>(The guilt of that moment returned even now, hard as he tried to push it down.)</p>
<p>Growling in frustration, he slammed the tome shut and made his way out of the library, pointedly ignoring the glares sent his way at the sudden interruption. He made his way to the door, striding down the opulent hallway, cape swishing in his wake.</p>
<p>Today was the day he would return to Midgard, whether he be caught or not. No longer could he tolerate Hermione's absence.</p>
<p>"Brother! Why the hurry?" Thor's heavy footsteps bloomed to life behind him. Loki groaned. Of course. Never a moment of peace on Asgard. Especially not for him.</p>
<p>"I have things to be doing."</p>
<p>"I'm sure I could convince you otherwise. Sif and the Warriors Three are coming on a hunting expedition with me. I came to ask if you would like to share in the glory." Thor looked ridiculously proud of himself, grinning so bright Loki ought to be squinting.</p>
<p>"Only to have to leave me behind at the camp again? Or badmouth me in front of Mother and Father?" It had happened too many times for comfort. "I think I will stay here this time, thank you very much. Good day to you."</p>
<p>"Are you sure? It could be a chance for you to get away from Father."</p>
<p>The bastard.</p>
<p>Although, this could work out nicely. A chance to get away from Odin. Loki was, after all, a master of illusions. Thor didn't have to know that it wouldn't be him on the hunting trip, merely a corporeal projection. It could work perfectly as a chance to see Hermione.</p>
<p>Yes, this would do nicely.</p>
<p>"You know what? I've changed my mind. I will meet you on the Rainbow Bridge in an hour. I look forward to this."</p>
<p>Thor looked utterly gobsmacked.</p>
<p>Perfect.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Shaking his head to clear the fog out (travelling via the back pathways was always vaguely unpleasant, despite the convenience of it) Loki couldn't help the smile that crept over his lips. To see Hermione's house again, quaint as it was, put him in an extremely good mood.</p>
<p>Making sure to knock this time, lest he land himself in another fiasco like that last time he'd been here, he waited patiently. To pass the time, he made a small ball of magic in one hand and threw it about. Such a childish activity, yet he found joy in simplicity.</p>
<p>The door slowly opened, the unfortunately familiar face of Ronald Weasley peeking out from behind it. If Loki didn't know better, he would say Weasley was on the verge of collapse. His skin was deathly pale, eyes shot through with zig-zagging trails of red, hair unkempt and sticking out at every direction. Exhaustion followed his every move, slow, quivering, mechanical.</p>
<p>Almost as if he didn't know what to do with himself.</p>
<p>Perhaps Loki didn't know better.</p>
<p>Weasley's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?"</p>
<p>"I am sure that is fairly obvious. I am here to see Hermione." Honestly, how thick could the man be? Hermione was the only reason he had to come to this house. It wasn't as if he and Ron got along. Loki found Weasley to be a bit of a dolt, stubborn as an ox and not even half as strong. Why Hermione would choose to be in a relationship with him was a mystery, but he wasn't going to take away happiness from her.</p>
<p>"Well, you're not gonna have much luck there." Weasley went to slam the door. Loki shoved his foot in just as it was going to close. He didn't even feel it. The door shook slightly and Ron growled in frustration.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry?"</p>
<p>"I said you're not going to have much luck with that." He pushed further on the door. "It's not like she's here, is it?"</p>
<p>"Why would she not be here? It is outside of her work hours, and I know for a fact she doesn't go out on Tuesday evenings." Perhaps tonight was an exception? She did tend to be gobbled up by research, only to turn it around to do a fair amount of gobbling on her own part. And with the portal interesting so, who knew how long she stayed at work?</p>
<p>"Yeah, no. That's not it. She went missing a few days ago, and no one's seen or heard anything." Weasley drew in a shuddering breath, as Loki's heart missed a beat. "Is that what you wanted to hear? That she's gone?"</p>
<p>"Why would I want her to be missing?" Loki hissed, pushing the door open and barging into the hallway. Ron stumbled back, barely able to stay on his feet. "She is my closest friend, and you're acting as if I want her to be missing? Get over yourself."</p>
<p>He could barely think, barely breathe, through the haze of anger clouding his thoughts, his vision, his mind. Hermione was missing? How could she go missing? She was the smartest, strongest, most brilliant person he knew (barring Asgardians, but they were a different species so they didn't count). It wasn't possible for her to go missing. Not after going through the war, after being tortured.</p>
<p>"I don't know, okay?" Weasley ran his hands through his hair, eyes wide. "I don't know. She's been gone for days, no one has seen anything. I've looked everywhere, asked everyone I can. I've reported her missing, I've gone to the papers, anything to get any information. But there's nothing, okay? I wasn't allowed on the case because it was too close to me, and I was sent home. I'm doing everything I can."</p>
<p>"Evidently it is not enough."</p>
<p>Weasley's voice dropped, dangerous and low. "Don't you dare. I'm doing everything I can to search for her. Don't act like you're the only one who cares about her, because you're not. I love her more than you could ever know, so you don't get to come in here and act like you're the only one who cares."</p>
<p>"I understand that." And he did. When someone shone as bright as Hermione, it was impossible for them to not inspire others to love them, to care for them. "What do you know?"</p>
<p>"I'm sorry?" Now it was Ron's turn to be confused.</p>
<p>"I said, what do you know? Are you deaf as well as asinine?" He drew in a deep calming breath, keeping the panic swirling inside at bay. Remember the mask, impeccable, unbreakable. "I want to know everything you do, and help find her. If it is the last thing I do, I will find her. And if it means partnering up with you...so be it."</p>
<p>"I don't know much."</p>
<p>"That is better than knowing nothing."</p>
<p>Weasley visibly hesitated. "I suppose...I suppose that two heads are better than one. This doesn't mean I like you, though."</p>
<p>"The sentiment is shared," Loki sniffed.</p>
<p>And as they walked inside the house, both uneasy in the company of the other, Loki swore to every star in the sky that he would find Hermione, even if it was the last thing he ever did.</p>
<p>He wasn't going to lose her.</p>
<p>Not again.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"―ione! Hermione!"</p>
<p>Hermione jerked upright, breathing hard. Harry placed a steady hand on her shoulder. What…how? The portal room, same as when she left it, rose around her. The portal, the infernal thing, stood innocent behind her, almost taunting her. Her notebook and quill lay on the edge of the room where she left them. Just a few feet in front of her, her wand sat.</p>
<p>Nadia's words were correct. The rift, with a single touch, took her out. Out of that prison. Once again, tears welled, once again she shook uncontrollably.</p>
<p>"Harry? Is this real?" The question slipped out unbidden. She couldn't bring herself to reprimand herself for asking. Where usually, every word was picked with pinpoint precision, she now blurted it out. "Please, tell me this is real." Desperation never heard in her voice leaked through.</p>
<p>"Hermione? What are you talking about? Of course this is real." He grabbed her hand, wincing slightly when Hermione clamped down on it with an iron grip, using it as a lifeline. "I came as soon as I heard the portal exploded and knocked you out. What happened?"</p>
<p>"I was in it…I…" Like something was blocking her throat, the sound simply stopped, coming out as a muffled sob. "I can't…Harry, tell me this is real. It has to be real. Please. I can't go back there." Her hands started shaking again.</p>
<p>"You won't be going back, wherever you were. This is real, I promise."</p>
<p>"Okay, okay, okay."</p>
<p>This couldn't be a dream, it couldn't. Harry was sitting next to her, warm and breathing, face lined with concern. There was noise, there was colour. Everything was so bright. Warmth she forgot how to feel washed through her, flushing her cheeks pink. The portal behind her, from what little she could see, was laying in smoking ruins, scattered around the room. Touching the rift must have severed whatever frail magic was holding it together.</p>
<p>Good.</p>
<p>"Let's get out of here," she said suddenly, hauling herself to her feet.</p>
<p>"You're chipper all of a sudden."</p>
<p>"Well, I'm out, aren't I?" Elation began building. It was true. She was out. There was no way to fake what she was feeling. She was out. Out! The portal was destroyed, and she didn't have to live with the fear of turning into a living statue. No longer did the tattoo sit on the back of her hand, no longer was everything white, silent but for the beating of her own heart. "We've got to celebrate!"</p>
<p>"What exactly happened in there?" Harry strode alongside her, robes flapping behind him. "Because last time I checked, you were only knocked out."</p>
<p>"That's a story for later. I don't feel like telling it now. Rest assured," she added as Harry's concern grew, "I am okay. I'm out of there, aren't I? Right now I am going to go home, have a nice dinner and spend the evening with all my friends. I promise I'll tell you."</p>
<p>"Merlin knows I've been forced to recount stories immediately." Hermione's mind flashed to the end of his fourth year when he was bundled off to Dumbledore's office to tell the story of the graveyard. "Take all the time you need."</p>
<hr/>
<p>Shepherd's pie never smelled so good.</p>
<p>The rich aroma wafted over as she apparated into her lounge. Ron, as per usual, had taken over the cooking. Judging from the constant clattering of the utensils, he was anxious cooking. Right. That meant there would be a lot more than shepherd's pie to eat when he was done.</p>
<p>"Hermione?" His head whipped up the second she appeared, Harry not far behind. "Oh Merlin, you're okay!" Next thing she knew, Ron wrapped his arms around her, face pressed into her neck. "I'm so sorry I couldn't be there. I was out on assignment and by the time I got back everything was cleared up and you were gone and I didn't know what to do so I came back here and started cooking and―"</p>
<p>"Ron, it's okay," she laughed, as he drew back from the hug. Her hands slowly came up and held his cheeks, pulling him in for a gentle kiss. "I'm okay," she whispered.</p>
<p>"I was so worried."</p>
<p>"I know, but I'm here now." An angry gargle made itself known. "And I'm apparently very hungry."</p>
<p>"Good thing I made lots of food."</p>
<p>Hermione would never take this for granted again.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"You don't know how much I've missed this," Hermione sighed, relaxing into her armchair. She'd never take this for granted ever again. Ron and Harry, sitting around the lounge, nodded in agreement. A slight worry made itself known in Harry's lips, how he bit at the lower, and Ron's hands, how they twisted, rife with anxiety.</p>
<p>"How long were you...in there?" Harry hesitantly asked, treading around the subject as if she was glass prone to shatter with the flick of a finger. She huffed.</p>
<p>"I don't know, okay? I don't want to talk about it today. Tomorrow, maybe. In a week, maybe. But right now, I'm here. I want to enjoy actually being warm and not having a voice whispering in my ear." She shuddered at the memory of that deep, enticing voice echoing around her head. "Just give me a little bit of time."</p>
<p>An uncomfortable silence fell.</p>
<p>"Things were great at work today, before your accident," Ron butted in, a clumsy attempt to change the subject. Bullheaded as it was, it worked.</p>
<p>"Oh yeah? What happened?" Harry shifted, seemingly as glad at the conversation switch as Hermione.</p>
<p>"I passed one of my exams, with good marks too…"</p>
<p>As Ron continued talking, Hermione sank into her thoughts. She wanted to tell them, she really did. But every time she tried, the words wouldn't come out of her throat. Like there was something, some kind of filter, stopping her from talking. Every time she tried, her mouth ran dry and a lump grew in her chest, coiling around her desire to share. Her very own little monster. How ironic. The two people she swore to tell everything, and here she was, hiding it from them. No guilt weighed down on her shoulders either.</p>
<p>Just...nothing. Nothing except the desire to keep it to herself, if even for a day. Something for herself.</p>
<p>The night carried on, the joyous conversation sweeping her worries away for the time being. Ron talked about his job, Harry about the students he met while training as a professor. And Hermione? Well, she listened, late into the night, until her eyelids drooped and her heart began to beat slower.</p>
<p>"Let's get you to bed, sleepyhead," a warm voice murmured, piercing through the pleasant fog of exhaustion. She vaguely registered strong arms picking her up, the swaying motion of whoever picked her up finally lulling her off into a comfortable sleep.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"―ione! Hermione!"</p>
<p>Hermione jerked upright, breathing hard. Harry placed a steady hand on her shoulder. What...how? The portal room, same as she left it, rose around her. This couldn't be right. She couldn't be out? Surely, this had to be a dream, just like the one she had before, a wonderful dream where family surrounded her on all sides and it was warm.</p>
<p>Was deja vu the right word? She couldn't shake the feeling that this had happened before, down to the way Harry was looking at her with his rat's nest of hair and dark circular glasses perched on his nose.</p>
<p>"This has happened before," she breathed. Or had it? Was a strange dream sitting in the back of her mind enough to warrant that assumption? Things like this didn't happen.</p>
<p>"Hermione? Are you alright? That explosion must have knocked you out good." He placed a hand on her back, helping her sit up. Bile rose in her throat at the action. "Woah, woah!" Harry jumped away as she retched over the floor where he had just been. Damn. "We need to get you home."</p>
<p>"My wand." She weakly pointed towards her wand, lying several feet away. Harry scooped it up and placed it in her holster, helping her to her feet. "Where's Ron?"</p>
<p>"He's out on an emergency assignment and couldn't make it. His superiors wouldn't allow it, no matter how hard he fought." He placed an arm around her shoulder, a pillar of support for her trembling body. "He'll be at your home when we get there."</p>
<p>An uncontrollable shot of disappointment panged in her chest. "Okay, yeah. Yeah, home sounds good." Home, where it was warm, where there was colour, where there was movement other than her own. "Let's go."</p>
<p>"Miss Granger," an official looking witch with thick glasses piped up, "before you leave we have to debrief you. What happened here is extremely important, and you were right in the middle of it."</p>
<p>"Can't this just wait for tomorrow?" This didn't happen before. Before? No, there was no before. She'd just woken up after an explosion, after being trapped. "Please, I just want to go home."</p>
<p>The witch frowned. "I'm afraid it can't wait. It won't last long, Miss Granger."</p>
<p>Hermione sagged into Harry's arms, legs almost giving out under her. The portal mocked her still. It kept her in the room long after she wanted to flee, sitting in the corner of her eyes no matter how crumbled it appeared to be.</p>
<p>The sooner she started, the sooner it was over.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Shepherd's pie never smelled so good.</p>
<p>After the debrief (read, interrogation) lasted for well over two hours, the sight of her living room washed a wave of comfort over her. The familiarity soothed her soul.</p>
<p>As soon as she appeared with a snap, Ron dropped everything with a clatter. "Hermione?" In a second, he was in front of her, hands on her face like he couldn't believe she was alive. "Oh, thank Merlin you're okay." He peppered her face with greedy kisses. "I was so worried, and they wouldn't let me leave, and by the time I was done you were gone, so I came back and started cooking and―"</p>
<p>Ron, it's okay," she said shakily, rubbing comforting circles on the back of his hand. "I'm okay."</p>
<p>"I'm so glad, I don't know what I would have done if you were hurt."</p>
<p>And the rest of the evening passed happily, a blur of good conversation and hearty food. That niggling tickled the back of her mind that this had happened before, coiling up with that denial to talk about what happened. Tonight, she was just revelling in the fact she was out of there, free from that white, cold hell.</p>
<p>Exhaustion soon overtook her weary frame and she dropped off to sleep, lulled by the warmth and colour cocooning her.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"―ione! Hermione!"</p>
<p>Hermione jerked upright, breathing hard. Harry placed a steady hand on her shoulder. The portal room, containing at least ten people, stared back at her with varying levels of intensity. A sharp ache bloomed at the back of her head. That wasn't there the other times.</p>
<p>Other times?</p>
<p>Memories bloomed to life, foggy as a London morning, yet clear as the summer sky. Flashes of moments not yet had, smiles, kisses and a delicious smell. Warm warms, happy conversation and a vow to tell them tomorrow. Even this moment, had twice before, waking up to the exact same words.</p>
<p>So she hadn't escaped.</p>
<p>Fuck.</p>
<p>All that time, all those hours spent wandering, all for nothing. Nadia's sacrifice (or was it a trick?) wasted on her. The white, white, white expanse, cold seeping slowly into her bones, joints creaking as if she died many years ago.</p>
<p>"Hermione? Are you alright? You look scared." Harry removed his hand, engulfing her in a gentle hug. She took comfort in the steadiness of his breathing, the slight beating of his heart she could feel beneath his robes.</p>
<p>
  <em>Not his heart.</em>
</p>
<p>But this wasn't Harry. This was a fallacy, a well-crafted trick meant to drive the captives into neverending insanity. How many people wasted away here, driven man by the day repeating itself no matter what they did. Was Hermione destined to become one of that cursed number? Was it her destiny to spend eternity trapped in the same day, with the same people so close to those she loved?</p>
<p>Spiralling seemed a very attractive activity right now.</p>
<p>"Yeah, I'm fine," she said instead of giving in to the overwhelming panic. It would have to be put to the side for now. If this were the same type of place as the White (white, cold, everlasting cold), then there would be a way out. A way for her to slip out, a breach, a crack in the wall of reality that glowed a soft gold.</p>
<p>And it was up to her to find it.</p>
<p>"That was quite the hit you took. I'm surprised it wasn't more." Once again, Harry helped her to her feet, and once again she thanked him, peering closely at his face. Now that she noticed it, the whole place felt off, a fraction skewed. The small details couldn't all be the same.</p>
<p>Harry's eyes, surrounded by those round frames, narrowed slightly. "If something's wrong, you can tell me."</p>
<p>There it was. A slight difference in how he talked, his accent.</p>
<p>But that was all it took. If this place was based on her memories, and her few minutes theorising on the topic all pointed towards that particular explanation, then the way out had to have something to do with the same. Breaking them down until there was nothing left of them, nothing left to be seen but that same white expanse.</p>
<p>Or perhaps the solution was to build them up, have faith in who she was and what she remembered.</p>
<p>Whatever the solution, she would find it. It wasn't like she was running out of time. The thought brought forth a bitter chuckle, a sound she would no doubt become very familiar with over the coming days.</p>
<hr/>
<p>And so, the days passed, one after the other. At the end of a week (or a day, it was difficult to tell when the week consisted of a single day) she found herself crying once again, mind becoming numb. At the end of a month, all she could feel was anger, a deep black hatred for whoever imprisoned her in this hellscape. It wasn't uncommon for her to set a tree on fire or blow up a rock in a remote field. What did it matter when none of this existed.</p>
<p>All the small details she noticed just kept building up and up and up, a mountain looming over her until she cowered in its shadow. How did she not notice this? It was so obvious, so fake, that when she now looked around all she saw was...nothing. All she felt was who she was being stripped away as the same scenes repeated,</p>
<p>Harry's accent, the shade of Ron's hair, the shape of the blanket on their couch, the type of mince used in shepherd's pie. So many details, overwhelming in their magnitude...but invaluable in their importance.</p>
<p>With these details, she began piecing together how to escape, how to leave. Memories were a major factor, and already she knew escaping by breaking them down wouldn't merit any results worth fawning over.</p>
<p>Time to try building them up, having faith in herself. Surely, it couldn't be that hard?</p>
<p>But as she stood on a cliff face, wand clutched in one hand and a tome in the other, she couldn't help but crumble just a little, on the inside. The wind battered her face, eyes watering and cheeks reddened, but yet she stood firm, never betraying the feelings inside. If there was one thing she learned, it was keeping her emotions to the wayside, never letting them distract her from her escape</p>
<p>Just this once...just this once she allowed herself a reprieve.</p>
<p>"Is this what you wanted?" she asked bitterly, barely bothering to move. "Is this what you wanted to do? Break me down until I am a shadow of myself, watch me suffer until I'm nothing more than a zombie?" Even to her own ears, the words sounded poetic, pathetic, lost like nothing else before. "It's not going to work." A whisper, snatched away by the roaring wind, heard by no one but herself.</p>
<p>No answer, just like always.</p>
<p>"Answer me!" she called out, and yet it was snatched away again. "Please!"</p>
<p><em>Hermione! </em>A voice in her head that sounded like Harry shouted out.</p>
<p>"Hermione!"</p>
<p>Heavy footsteps, thudding across the grass, sounded behind her. She didn't even need to turn around to know it was Harry and Ron. Ever since she started disappearing the second she woke, not bothering to follow through with the same sequence of events, they desperately followed her, those copies so similar yet so far.</p>
<p>What did it matter? They weren't the real thing.</p>
<p>"Hermione, we found you! You made us worried sick." Ron swept her up into a hug. She awkwardly hung there, not bothering to return it.</p>
<p>"It seems you have."</p>
<p>"Where have you been?" Harry also joined the hug, barely able to reach around the edge of both Ron and Hermione. Perhaps in another life, he would be reincarnated as a limpet. That seemed rather fitting.</p>
<p>"Here."</p>
<p>"Well, we know that." Harry unlimpeted himself. "Why did you run off like that?"</p>
<p>"You wouldn't understand."</p>
<p>Ron pulled back, moving to gently hold her cheeks. "Help us understand, Hermione. We want to help you. Let us help you."</p>
<p>The ache for them returned full force as soon as he uttered those words. What she wouldn't give to return to her friends, her partner, her life. Escape this place, get out.</p>
<p>Have faith that she would.</p>
<p>Not lose herself in a black hole, spiralling deeper and deeper until she was nothing but a shell with the face of a woman long forgotten.</p>
<p>And as those thoughts ricocheted around her head, over and over, a faint golden glow began to grow behind her, as her faith in herself and those around her grew. Tears pricked her eyes, and she let go of Ron and Harry to turn around.</p>
<p>There it was, in front of her, hanging in the air. The Breach, the escape, the way out to a day that didn't repeat itself until she was driven mad. It hummed slightly, vibrating the ground an infinitesimal amount. If she allowed herself to feel any more emotions than regret, anger, pain, then jubilation would course through her veins.</p>
<p>"I can't help you understand. This is something I have to do myself. Trust me, though. Things will turn out alright. All you have to do is have faith."</p>
<p>"Hermione, what?"</p>
<p>"It's going to be alright."</p>
<p>With a slight smile to Harry and Ron, who gazed at her with puzzled eyes, she stepped backwards and let the warmth engulf her.</p>
<p>Onto whatever came next.</p>
<p>Bring it on.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"So," Loki said, sitting down on the couch, "what do you know." With significant effort, he managed to keep the mask up. To stave off the panic. Keeping a clear head was imperative. Losing it would only lead him down a path of mania or, even worse, a path similar to Thor. He shuddered at the thought.</p>
<p>"As I said, I don't know much." Weasley opened a folder sitting on the coffee table, a pitiful amount of papers held inside. He wasn't lying. "What I do know, though, is that she went to work and never came out. She was seen in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, and then seemingly disappeared. I talked to her boss, Helena, and she said that Hermione never turned up. So somewhere between arriving at the Ministry and getting to work, she disappeared. It's been four days, and no one has seen anything since."</p>
<p>"Do the Aurors have any more information?" Loki leaned forward, picking up the first slip of paper. It detailed the witness testimonies from those Ron spoke to in the atrium. Loki had to hand it to him, these were extremely thorough. He began reading through them, half-listening to what Weasley was saying. He was nothing if not a good multi-tasker.</p>
<p>"I'm sure they do, but they won't release it to me. I'm on the squad, I'm nearly a proper Auror. I've done cases like this so many times. But apparently because of my relationship with Hermione, I will interfere with investigations."</p>
<p>"I would have thought having you on the case would be beneficial, seeing as you know her so well."</p>
<p>"That's what I said." Weasley rifled through the folder, grabbing the last piece of paper. "This is the one I'm not sure about. Something about the interview just seems off, and I can't place what it is." He handed it to Loki. "Perhaps you could find something?"</p>
<p>It was the interview sheet for Hermione's superior, Helena Helgarth. Though he was yet to meet the woman, Hermione regaled many tales of her strange, whimsical behaviour. She was quite fond of the woman.</p>
<p>Looking at the sheet, it was easy to see where Weasley's suspicions stemmed from. The little details didn't quite match up. They were impossibly close, so close that anyone not peering closely would presume them to be completely normal. Loki's eyes narrowed. What reason would Helena have to lie?</p>
<p>The only reason could be a cover-up.</p>
<p>"She is lying." He stood, clutching the paper in his hands. "This is what is going to happen. You are going to go and find out what information the Auror squad has, for I know that there is more there. I am going to go and talk to Helgarth about Hermione's disappearance."</p>
<p>"I told you, I don't have access to the information."</p>
<p>"You think I have not already taken care of that? A trivial matter. If you go there, you will be allowed back onto the team and given access to the information." Loki turned for the door. "Do you understand what you need to do?"</p>
<p>"I...yes. Yes, I do."</p>
<p>"Good. We will meet back here at dusk and exchange information. I expect every scrap of information at your disposal."</p>
<p>"I wouldn't do anything less."</p>
<hr/>
<p>This time, Hermione didn't wake up on the floor.</p>
<p>Instead, a sharp wind cut at her like knives as she plummeted towards what looked like a city. So high up, she could see out for miles and miles. Was that...no, it couldn't be.</p>
<p>But it was.</p>
<p>Far below her, the city of London sprawled out, further than the eyes could see. Identical houses, slate-coloured roofs, little boxed in gardens with impossibly green grass. Cars moved along the roads like ants, not a single person aware that above them a woman was falling from the sky, panic multiplying every second she fell.</p>
<p>Well, this was something different.</p>
<p>Normally, Hermione was one to keep a level head. After escaping the time loop with the help of Harry and Ron, the handle she kept on her emotions was wound impossibly tight. Yet, there was only so long someone could stave off the panic when falling towards a city from a thousand miles above, no conceivable way of landing. To make it worse, Hermione knew she could get hurt in these Hellish landscapes.</p>
<p>If only she had her wand, then she could cast 'Arresto Momentum' and land without becoming an absolute pancake on the footpath. Or in some unsuspecting sop's backyard. Wouldn't that be fun?</p>
<p>"Oh, honey, what's for breakfast?"</p>
<p>"There's a fresh pancake in the backyard, big enough for all of us to share."</p>
<p>A scream tore from her throat as she came ever closer to the ground. This couldn't be it, could it? Another loop, only this time falling without her wand, destined to die over and over again? At least in the one before, she merely fell asleep. True, it was enough to drive her to explode a tree several times over, but at least she wasn't stuck in this situation. It seemed every level, every layer of this infernal prison, was hellbent on making it worse for her.</p>
<p>Twenty metres.</p>
<p>Ten.</p>
<p>Five.</p>
<p>Out of nowhere, an invisible hand, scooped her up, depositing her onto the lawn. She rolled over several times, grass blades filling her mouth, body in shock from the rough landing. A groan bled from her lips as an overpowering ache washed through her limbs. That was going to last for a while.</p>
<p>"I'm alive," she whispered, laughing to herself in disbelief. "I'M ALIVE! Oh Merlin, aha!" It seemed the longer she spent in here, the less she cared about talking to herself. If none of this was real, why should she care about maintaining proper manners?</p>
<p>"Who are you? Why are you in my backyard?"</p>
<p>That voice...it was eerily familiar.</p>
<p>Hermione slowly turned her head, dreading what she would find this time. A small girl, no older than ten, stared back at her with wide brown eyes. A large dress hung off her, and her hair frizzed out at every possible angle.</p>
<p>"Shit."</p>
<p>"Mummy says you shouldn't swear." The little girl tentatively stepped forward. "Are you an angel? You fell from the sky. Are you hurt? Should I go and get a medical kit? I'm quite good at fixing people up, Mrs Andrews said so yesterday." She paused for a moment, deep in thought. "I'll only do it if you apologise for saying such a bad word."</p>
<p>Hermione couldn't believe her eyes. Her younger self stood in the backyard, her backyard, lecturing her about swearing. Anything should be possible in this prison, and yet she found herself resisting the urge to rub her eyes in disbelief. Every corner she turned, there was something new and unbelievable waiting to greet her.</p>
<p>"I'm very sorry," she found herself saying. Whatever form of perverted torture this was, she'd find her way through it. No other option. Deeper and deeper until she escaped. And she would escape. "Would you be able to help me?"</p>
<p>A medical kit sounded very nice right about now, with the way her bones ached and blood oozed across her already bruising skin. Though the Voice (for it could be nothing else) saved her from splatting in her own backyard, it didn't save her from pain. Still, pain was better than death.</p>
<p>"Of course. Here, take my hand." Her younger self extended it, smiling graciously. Hermione accepted it, and then: "Why did you let them do it?"</p>
<p>"I'm sorry?"</p>
<p>"Why did you let them hurt me?" Little Hermione took a step back, lips quivering, hands fisting in her oversized dress. Why weren't you there to protect me? You were supposed to be there for me!"</p>
<p>"Wait, I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione said, leaping to her feet, immediately on the defensive. Her younger voice sent pangs of guilt to her very core, violently plucking on her heartstrings. So this was what it was. Being confronted by her younger self, during one of her lowest moments. She knew this moment. She knew it very, very well.</p>
<p>When she was eight, a boy called Billy Thornton and his 'gang' decided she would be an easy target. It was an easy deal: do their homework or be beaten up. With her moral of steel, Hermione refused. That night she came home with bruises and cuts, never again the same.</p>
<p>That moment was the start of Hermione realising that she wasn't always going to be liked, that she would often be used for her knowledge and skill. People would always overlook who she truly was. Until Hogwarts, that was.</p>
<p>That dull pain of that moment still clung desperately onto her, a familiar ache when she spiralled back down into that dark place where nothing existed except her misery.</p>
<p>"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Little Hermione cried. "They hurt me, and you did nothing. You stood by and watched." The pain on her face was immeasurable, every ounce of Hermione's past guilt wrapped up into one bawling package.</p>
<p>Oh, this was worse.</p>
<p>This was so much worse. She'd take the time loop over this any day. Old wounds didn't need to be opened, didn't need to be scored like a fresh loaf of sourdough, over and over until there was nothing except guilt and pain and anguish. Even now, after a few words, Hermione's resolve began to crumble. After all that time in the Loop, she didn't think it possible. Yet here she was, listening to her younger self cry and yell. Only a few words did it take, she thought ruefully.</p>
<p>How was she going to get out of this one?</p>
<p>"I wasn't there! How could I have done something when I wasn't there?" Little Hermione grabbed Hermione's hand, hanging on with an iron grip. Nails dug into her skin, hard enough that little crescent moons would mark her within seconds. She hissed with the pain. "You know I wasn't there!"</p>
<p>"You could have stood up for me. You could have said something. Why didn't you say something? Why, Hermione? I thought you hated bullies." The grip on her hand tightened. Her childhood home, even from the backyard, began looming over her, mountainous, ominous, impossibly stifling. This wasn't right, none of this was right. The backyard was too small, the trees were too large, her little self too vicious, unable to see reason.</p>
<p>"I couldn't...I wasn't there." Only a weak croak came out this time. "I wasn't there."</p>
<p><em>Breaking already, are we? </em>Deep, rumbling coming from everywhere and nowhere. <em>I had higher hopes for you, my dear.</em></p>
<p>Immediately, her back straightened. "You," she snarled, yanking her hand back to herself. "You evil, foul, good for nothing asshole! What do you gain from this? You're torturing me, you know that? How does that make you feel? I've done nothing wrong, and you know that"</p>
<p>Little Hermione stood by as she began her furious tirade, content to watch with an invisible smirk.</p>
<p>"I bet you get off on this, don't you? Sending me deeper and deeper into this hellhole for your own amusement? I'm done with it! Reveal yourself to me, right now, or I'll make you come out. I swear, I'm going to kill you ten times over for what you've done to me. You have my word." Harsh breaths slipped in and out, in and out, her throat suddenly frayed and damaged. So long passed since her last outburst. So, so long.</p>
<p><em>My, getting a little worked up there, aren't we? It isn't a good look on you, little Miss Granger. </em>The Voice crooned at her, infuriatingly calm. As if she was some child's plaything, tossed around for the entertainment of something greater.</p>
<p>"Nobody gets to decide what's a good look on me except myself, do you understand me? I'm going to get out of here, just you wait. I'll figure this place out, and you'll wish you never brought me in here, to begin with!"</p>
<p>
  <em>Well, I'll leave you to your detective work, then, if that's how you feel. Till we meet again.</em>
</p>
<p>Silence.</p>
<p>That Merlin-forsaken silence, so quiet she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, not like this.</p>
<p>"I bet you wish you'd done something."</p>
<p>The sudden noise made her jump. Hermione whirled around to face her younger self, a savage grin plastered on her face. She wasn't here to play games, no, she was here to win. No one was getting the one up on her.</p>
<p>"You can shut up, right now."</p>
<p>The way out here was somewhere near, she could feel it. Golden light played at the edge of her vision. Truth or hallucination? Well, if it were a hallucination, she would make it truth faster than her younger self could speak. And her younger self could speak <em>fast</em>. She didn't win the 'fast speaker' competition for nothing. The garden wall, cracking and crumbling because neither her mother nor father knew how to fix it (their expertise was in teeth, not terracotta) was a promising start. Little fractures reached out over it, infested with vines and weeds. She always liked this part of the garden. Scenes from her favourite fantasy books played out in front of her as she sat among the flowers, eyes closed, imagination running wild.</p>
<p>Oh, what she wouldn't give for it to be that simple once again.</p>
<p>With her new resolve, she continued searching, thinking of every possible out. Somewhere here, was her escape. It was only a matter of time.</p>
<p>"Why was he mean to me? I thought he could be my friend. I helped him in class."</p>
<p>A new voice this time, older, though barely by a few years. Without even looking, Hermione knew what version of herself joined the hellish chorus.</p>
<p>The troll incident.</p>
<p>Those exact thoughts, exact lines, flooded back in. How long had they haunted her, even as her friendship with Harry and Ron bloomed? Far longer than she cared to admit. It didn't matter now. That was in the past, the guilt and shame long washed away. It wasn't Ron's fault the troll followed her into the bathroom, and he'd more than made up for it over their long time together.</p>
<p>"He shouldn't be allowed to go to school if he's bullying me. No bullies should," Young Hermione snarled. "Why should I bear the brunt of his failures? Why should I get hurt while he gets off scot-free? He hurt me, and you stood by doing nothing."</p>
<p>"Agreed." Little Hermione chimed in again, teary voice clear as a bell.</p>
<p>"Why isn't she agreeing?" Ah, there was the inquisitive tone she associated with her youth.</p>
<p>Don't listen to them.</p>
<p>Block them out.</p>
<p>If you don't listen to them, they don't affect you, won't hurt you. If she just stayed on the search, on the hunt, for the exit, things would be okay. She refused to be tortured by the monster who ran this place, trapped in a prison designed specifically with her in mind. How many people came through here before her, failing over and over as their younger selves brought forth their lowest moments?</p>
<p>"I won't be like that."</p>
<p>"Why doesn't he listen to me?"</p>
<p>"Gah!" Hermione wheeled backwards as her thirteen-year-old self shimmered to life in front of her. The edges were frayed like a mirage of the desert, almost smoky in appearance. The others from before didn't have those. "Get away from me!"</p>
<p>"I'm only trying to do what's best for him! A serial killer is after him, and no one is taking it seriously. I'm looking out for his safety. How can they not see that this broom could be dangerous?" Her wand clutched dangerously in her hand. "I'm only trying to help, you know this. Why can't you tell them?"</p>
<p>Hermione didn't grace her with a response. Instead, she continued her search, now placing an ear down to the grass to listen for that faint hum from the loop. Perhaps it carried over; now there was golden light and a buzzing to guide her to it.</p>
<p>Still nothing.</p>
<p>"That broom is dangerous!"</p>
<p>"The troll is dangerous!"</p>
<p>"Those boys are dangerous!"</p>
<p>"Loki is dangerous."</p>
<p>The last phrase, a mere whisper on the wind, drew her to a standstill.</p>
<p>It couldn't be.</p>
<p>All her lowest moments pulled together to torment her, and now this. The Voice wouldn't dare to dig this deep into the barrel where she stuffed her fear.</p>
<p>Yet there she was, standing in that blue dress with elegant Asgardian patterns, circlet on her head, hair in an intricate braid. That notebook from years ago, now sitting tattered (painstakingly repaired) on her office's bookshelf, clutched in her hand like a vice. The same tear tracks marked her face, bloodshot eyes and low keening noises escaping as if she was a wounded animal. Next to the other three, in the backyard of what used to be her home.</p>
<p>So this was what it looked like from the outside.</p>
<p>Though the argument was long gone, the anger let go, she couldn't help the twinge of despair deep in her gut. The way Loki used her to gain his father's favour. How he manipulated her over the years, tempting her with teachings of rare magicks. How, after five years, could the pain still be this raw? How could seeing herself at that moment, hearing those same traitorous thoughts, pull her back until all she could see was Loki's scheming face, Asgard's golden palace, her own excitement fading to disbelief?</p>
<p>That was long gone.</p>
<p>And once again, she pushed the pain away. She was going to get out of here and return to her nice, simple life far away from the portal. I hadn't been long, and nobody had to know what she found. If word of it got out...she shivered at the thought.</p>
<p>"Get away from me. I'm busy."</p>
<p>All four of them formed a close-knit line, short to tall, hands held and posture hunched. "Why didn't you do anything?" A chant, perfectly in unison, designed to torment her. But she was learning. If she didn't let these things affect her, escape would come quicker.</p>
<p>Put up a mask, put up a wall, focus only on yourself. Shield yourself from the world and the harsh words.</p>
<p>Become more.</p>
<p>"I will become more than you." She stood, facing the line that walked ever closer over the well-manicured lawn. Soft footsteps filled the air. All her darkest moments, changing points in her life, confronting her. "I will stand up for myself, you know that. I already do. I won't let myself be dragged down by the words of others. I will have faith in myself and my actions. And I won't be used by others to further their own agenda." She took a deep breath in as they began to steam around the edges, that mirage effect returning. " But I will learn to forgive people for their actions. I won't be cruel nor vindictive. I will search for the light. And you," she pointed a finger in the direction, "won't be able to stop me. I am more now, I am better."</p>
<p>"Are you sure about that?" an unfamiliar voice drawled. "Pretty hard to escape your own past when it's right in front of you, don't you think? Oh, to be so naive as to believe simple words can change who you are. No, it takes much more than that."</p>
<p>"Who are you," she hissed, still focussing on the four in front of her. Still disappearing, slightly see-through, decimated by her faith in herself. So that's what this level was about; having faith in herself and letting go of the past. Other's must have been driven mad in this chamber, unable to believe in themself.</p>
<p>Not Hermione.</p>
<p>She would become more.</p>
<p>"I'm who you are going to become, haven't you figured that out? Prison designed by time. Past and future, little me." Spidery fingers trailed across the back of her neck. Shivers rippled down her back. The Four began coming back, still quietly chanting, "Why didn't you do anything?"</p>
<p>"Get away from me," she grit out, willing the four to disappear. She wouldn't fall victim to her own shame, own guilt, own pain. Though a part of her, it didn't define her. Never had, never would. Things like this were hard to let go of, but she already had.</p>
<p>So why did it hurt so much?</p>
<p>"My, my, aren't you full of yourself? Thinking you can win this. Sorry to break it to you, but you're never going to win. Shame is a powerful thing, little me. Better get used to it."</p>
<p>"No. Never."</p>
<p>"But you already have, haven't you?"</p>
<p>Hermione grunted as a long-nailed hand yanked her head around, taking her view off the Four. What she saw sent dread crawling over her skin.</p>
<p>The woman in front of her reeked of death. Dark circles clung to her sunken, bloodshot eyes, ash-filled wrinkles deep as canyons branching over her mottled grey face. Lank hair hanging to her elbows framed the terrible sight. Where there was supposed to be a nose there was rotting flesh peeling apart, a dark gaping hole lined with crooked, misshapen teeth instead of a mouth. Tattered clothes, riddled with rips and holes, hung off a skeletal frame, bones jutting out in a poor imitation of a living being. But that wasn't the worst.</p>
<p>The worst thing, the worst thing by far, was that Hermione recognised the barely living <em>thing </em>in front of her.</p>
<p>Somehow, someway, it was her.</p>
<p>The curve of the cheekbones, the way it spoke in that rasping tone, it was her. Twisted and evil and dead and disgusting, yet it was her.</p>
<p>Bile rushed up her throat as she emptied the contents of her stomach onto the grass.</p>
<p>"Look at you," the thing (it wasn't her, it wasn't her, it wasn't her) said in a sickly sweet voice as Hermione heaved, "finally realising the truth. It's hard to swallow, isn't it?"</p>
<p>"Why didn't you do anything?"</p>
<p>"Because she isn't worthy. All she's good for is being used for other's gain. I realised this long ago. It's time for her to come to terms with the fact. No one is ever going to love her or care for her, isn't that right, little me. No one will ever see you for who you truly are." A foot pressed down on her back. "Tell me you see it."</p>
<p>"ENOUGH!" Hermione pushed up, suddenly finding the energy to get herself up off the ground. The skeletal woman staggered back, arms wheeling wildly. Hermione didn't care whether she fell to the ground or not. "I am not taking this anymore. Yes, I've made mistakes, everyone has. But I've moved past them. So get out of my face, and leave me alone."</p>
<p>"Why didn't you do anything?"</p>
<p>"Because I am you!" She addressed all of them, even the version of herself that made her stomach heave. "I am you. I may not like it, but it is true. And it hurts. I see that now. By not standing up for myself, I hurt you. I hurt myself. But I'm better now." A warmth lit up behind her. "I'm better now." A tear slipped down her face as she walked back into the now familiar golden glow.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry."</p>
<hr/>
<p>The atrium of the Ministry of Magic was...depressing. From all the stories Hermione told, Loki didn't have the best impression, to begin with. Though fronted with opulence and grandeur, it was as false as Thor saying he cared about whatever book Loki was reading instead of revelry infused with mead. Golden, shining bright, with a bustling crowd, yet all Loki saw was compensation.</p>
<p>The fountain in the middle only served to make him shudder. Three people, three very familiar people, stood tall and golden, wands raised to the sky. Caricatures. Though he recognised a great deed had to be performed to gain a statue of oneself, seeing it every morning when going to work would be...unnerving. Although he personally thought it very fitting, for Hermione deserved to have monuments dedicated to her, they made her extremely uncomfortable, therefore serving to make him uncomfortable.</p>
<p>Around him, pushed passed with barely any regard to him at all. If he were a lesser man, he would no doubt be sprawled on the floor, groaning and muttering curses under his breath. Little people and their little priorities.</p>
<p>No time for gawking.</p>
<p>With purposeful steps, he followed the path towards Hermione's work. It wasn't all that hard to find, considering how many times she described it to him at the end of a long day's work. He had to admit, this place was...minorly impressive. It had clearly been here for a long time, with twisting corridors, owls and paper planes (both extremely impractical methods of message delivery, he might add) flitting about above his head, and different departments every few feet.</p>
<p>It was a wonder it hadn't fallen apart.</p>
<p>"Good riddance, I say. She was a nuisance anyway. Can't tell ya how many times she corrected me on something I already knew," a fat woman, with no neck and watery eyes, whispered to her friend as they walked by him. He stopped to listen, rather curious about the conversation. It may have something to do with Hermione. No one else would have been able to hear it. Thankfully, Loki was...well, Loki. He could hear many things rendered impossible for mere mortals.</p>
<p>"How could you say that? She's a war hero, have some sympathy." The woman's companion, a stick-thin man with a long nose and raggedy pants, seemed nervous, eyes darting about. "So what if she corrected you once?"</p>
<p>"It's that righteous attitude she's got, like she thinks she's Merlin's second coming or some owl shit. Honestly, I can't stand her." The fat woman glanced over in Loki's direction. "What're you looking at? Come to gawk at me?"</p>
<p>"Believe me, you are the last person I would ever want to gawk at." Why she thought he would ever take time out of his day to look at her was ludicrous. What sort of a woman was she? "No, I am looking for a good friend of mine who went missing a few days ago." She was exactly the type to take the bait, like a greedy little fish circling a hook.</p>
<p>"It wouldn't happen to be that nasty Granger woman, would it?"</p>
<p>So he was correct.</p>
<p>Loki didn't like this woman.</p>
<p>Not one bit.</p>
<p>"Yes, it would happen to be her," he bristled. "Tell me what you know about her disappearance." This pathetic excuse for a human would tell him what he knew. Even the thought of someone bad mouthing Hermione after she went missing, after she fought in a war to protect them, made his blood boil.</p>
<p>"And why would I do that? You're acting as if I want her to be found―gah!"</p>
<p>Within the second, Loki had her pinned against the wall, dagger held to her bobbing throat. This close up, he could see the cavernous wrinkles around lining her face, the false (smudged, he might add) beauty mark stamped to the left of her lip, smell her rancid breath. What a disgusting specimen of a human.</p>
<p>"I don't think I made myself clear. Tell me what you know about her disappearance and I will let you go unharmed. Start talking or my hand might just slip." He grinned at her. What pleasure this brought him. He should start threatening mortals more often.</p>
<p>"All I know is that I saw her going to work! Please, please don't hurt me. I've done nothing wrong!" She quivered, tears streaming down her cheeks. Snot bubbled in her nose. Loki grimaced, releasing her. She fell to the floor in a pile, whimpering and blabbering.</p>
<p>"Thank you for your help, it is greatly appreciated," Loki said, casually twisting the knife between his fingers. She scrambled away, acting remarkably like a crab. Perhaps she would find more enjoying living as a crab. That could be fun if there were time.</p>
<p>No, he thought viciously, it was time for Helgarth to pay for lying about Hermione. No one did that and got away with it. He turned away from the Crab and her companion, not even giving them a second glance. He had what he needed.</p>
<p>His steps were large, the aura of danger surrounding him even larger. The crowds in the hallways parted like the Red Sea, never daring to get in his way. Good. They knew he was angry, and he wouldn't hesitate to hurt those who stepped in his way. Not when finding Hermione was on the line.</p>
<p>There.</p>
<p>The entrance to where he would find Helgarth.</p>
<p>The door slammed open before he reached in, smashing against the wall and not bothering to close it. He stormed in, dagger in hand, eyes almost glowing. Helgarth jumped, face painted with fear, the many beads on her wrists clacking together.</p>
<p>Perfect.</p>
<p>He rushed forward, knocking her to the ground with a single swipe of his hand. She cried out, something in her cracking as she hit the floor. Loki didn't care. He held a dagger to her throat, a thin cut blooming to life on her pale, pale skin, and put a knee on her chest. She gagged at the pressure.</p>
<p>"Tell me what happened with Hermione," he growled, pressing the dagger down further. A keening noise escaped the sorry excuse of a person. "You will not like what happens shall you not."</p>
<p>Her eyes widened in terror, at that moment more resembling an animal than a woman. "I don't understand!" He increased the pressure on his chest.</p>
<p>"Tell me what you know about Hermione. I know that you lied to Ronald Weasley, I know she was here. Start talking, mortal, or you will know a world of never-ending pain." From the look on her face, the way her limbs started quaking, she believed him.</p>
<p>"I'll talk! I'll talk!"</p>
<p>"That's what I thought. Get started."</p>
<hr/>
<p>It would be okay.</p>
<p>That was the first thought she remembered thinking in this place. Back when time wasn't like sand through her fingers, back when she thought this place would be easy compared to the other. Back when her tentative optimism, her belief in herself and faith in those around her, hadn't been stripped back like a boar's skin from a carcass.</p>
<p>What a fool she was to think that this level would be alright.</p>
<p>The White.</p>
<p>The Loop.</p>
<p>The Past.</p>
<p>And now, The Beach.</p>
<p>An ironic name for such a Hellish place. With every level, things became worse, whether they be subtle or outrageously in her face. This place, the fourth level, was an entirely different type of torture, though.</p>
<p>"Please tell me what I've done wrong," she begged, once more, to the empty sky above. What she assumed to be the sky, at least. When everything around her was that eye-burning, scorching White, it was impossible to tell. "What did I do to deserve this?" Even as she asked, the numbness encasing her heart began to spread further.</p>
<p>Once again, there was no answer.</p>
<p>Only that damning silence.</p>
<p>The Portal was a prison. That much she had figured out, with all the time she had to think. An ancient prison made to hold those who were especially dangerous. All those people on the first level must be those souls unfortunate enough to land themselves in here. And the deeper</p>
<p>What else was there to do but think when everything she touched turned to dust, crumbled like sand through her fingers? Even touching herself sent her arm aflame as it decayed beneath her hand. No matter how much she tried, it wouldn't turn off. It gave her nothing much to do but think and stare at that tattoo on the back of her hand with increasing bitterness.</p>
<p>Too tired to even cry, Hermione lay down, being sure to keep her hands out to the side, fingers splayed out. Even a single touch was enough to send her skin crumbling away. Several spots on her stomach boasted exposed muscle, results of her necessary experimentation. At least now she knew that she couldn't touch herself. And that she didn't get infections here, or bleed. That was a plus in a never-ending sea of negatives.</p>
<p>Decay, deceit, defeat.</p>
<p>This was one level that left her completely stumped, with no idea on how to get out. Every time she tried to listen for that low buzzing, she was met with crushing silence. Feeling out for that slight vibration proved fruitless. That tantalising, terrifying golden light that held the key to the next level? Nowhere to be found.</p>
<p>At this point, numb as she was, Hermione only wanted to get this over with. Bring on the torture, bring on the Hellish activities set out for her. The sooner they happened, the sooner she would be out.</p>
<p>And so, while she waited, she sunk into the comforting embrace of analysis and logical explanation. Somewhere, somehow, there was an answer to everything going on here.</p>
<p>Realistically, she knew there probably wasn't an out. But being optimistic alleviated the smallest amount of pressure from her already ailing mind.</p>
<p>So far, she theorised there were seven layers, each punishing different crimes. What those crimes were, she didn't know. All that came to mind was the first level, The White, being a general prison. The levels below all came tailored to those who committed heinous crimes. The further down the level, the worse the torture became, those poor souls stranded for eternity in their own personal Hell. it wasn't like she'd seen anyone who was real since The White, since Nadia. The people here certainly weren't real.</p>
<p>(Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it.)</p>
<p>It was easier to think about those levels passed, rather than the one at hand. Even contemplating it brought shivers to her exhausted frame, running up and down her body with reckless abandon.</p>
<p>Or, she thought, steering the thought away from the present, there could be seven layers for each person, to test their metal. If they made it to the bottom, they escaped. That would explain the Breach, allowing her to pass between levels when she realised a truth about herself. That did seem to be a theme of each level, realisation.</p>
<p>Realising something about herself, believing in herself, coming to terms with past trauma. But that couldn't be it. It wasn't as if an ancient prison of immeasurable power would try to teach her truths about herself. The people frozen up in The White would beg to differ. Those trapped in and the endless loop would curse her name for even suggesting it. Those faced with themselves at their lowest moments would scream and shout until their throats tore raw.</p>
<p>That couldn't be it.</p>
<p>The only logical answer came down to this: The Prison was breaking down, hence the extensive runes on the exterior. Despite the protections, the wards, the research and the layering of magic upon magic upon magic, it was failing. This gave her the ability to slip between levels, make her way further and further in until she reached the centre. The 'Grand Finale' as it were. She thanked every deity that ever existed for this and swore that when she got out (she would, she would, she would) that the prison would be sealed off, destroyed, with no one ever allowed to touch it again.</p>
<p>And then there was the mystery of the strange voice she came to call the Warden. Appearing so fleetingly she had to convince herself he was real and not some hyper-realistic hallucination brought on by the desperation for human contact. All it did was tease her, ask her if she was seeing the truth yet. She'd make it see the truth when she shoved it so far up its ass it gained a third nostril.</p>
<p>A quivering voice interrupted her rather pleasant thoughts. The bliss of logic could only last for so long, it seemed, before the torture resumed.</p>
<p>"Hermione, is that you?" The voice of a young girl yet to hit puberty. So young. This time she wouldn't fail. This time she'd save them. "Can you help me? I think I'm lost."</p>
<p>"Do I know you?" Hermione called without getting up.</p>
<p>"It's me, Gabrielle. Can you help me? I'm cold."</p>
<p>Terror shot through her like a lance. Gabrielle Delacour, the younger sister of Fleur. No, please. Not this. Anything but this. It couldn't be. She wouldn't move, wouldn't let her hands move to touch her skin, wouldn't hear Gabrielle's screams mixing with her own as she disintegrated to a pile of ash.</p>
<p>"I can't help you, sorry."</p>
<p>Stay on the ground, don't move. If you don't move, you can't touch her. Come on Hermione, don't let it get to you.</p>
<p>"Please? I think I've just been for a swim. I can't seem to find a towel. Could you help me?" A pleading tone slivered into Gabrielle's bell-like voice. Hermione didn't even allow herself a look. She wouldn't, couldn't, shouldn't. "Please, Hermione?"</p>
<p>Almost against her own hill, her head turned. There, soaked to the bone and shivering as if ice encased her fragile form, Gabrielle Delacour sat. Arms wrapped around her knees, hair dripping water onto the white floor. Her clothes were plastered to her body, her teeth chattering, eyes flitting around in mild panic.</p>
<p>"Where am I?"</p>
<p>She wasn't real, yet she sounded so.</p>
<p>Ignore her, ignore her. It was the time loop all over again. All she had to do was ignore that which seemed so real, stay true to herself and what she knew to be real. But Gabrielle sounded so real, her shivers tugging at Hermione's heartstrings. She sounded so lost, so worried.</p>
<p>"Not a good place, I'm afraid," Hermione muttered. The words came out before she had time to think. Dammit.</p>
<p>"Do you have a towel? I'm cold. I want Fleur." Gabrielle's arms gripped tighter around herself, almost as if she was hugging herself. What Hermione wouldn't trade to be able to do that herself. She wasn't going to see Gabrielle crumble to dust under her hands, though. Not this version of her, not any version of her.</p>
<p>Even though she was six years older in real life, this version was what really got to Hermione. It was from the first time they met, after Harry hauled her out of the Black Lake, spluttering and coughing. That little girl, who didn't ask to be held underwater, who held onto Fleur as if her life depended on it, so shy and frightened.</p>
<p>What sick sense of humour did the Warden have?</p>
<p>"I can't help you, Gabrielle. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I wish I could." Even to her own ears, the words sounded false. It would be so easy to walk over and offer her a hug, embrace her with warmth and comfort. She was only a little girl, she didn't deserve this.</p>
<p>No one deserved this.</p>
<p>But none of the people before had been children. All of them were fully grown, people she was close to and people she barely knew. The ash piles dotted around the endless white, though she refused to acknowledge them, served as reminders of her failure. At least they were adults.</p>
<p>Gabrielle was only a child.</p>
<p>"Please, Hermione. I'm cold. Could you conjure a towel for me? I left my wand in the Beauxbatons carriage." Her lips began to shift in colour, pink turning to a ghastly blue. "I'm so cold."</p>
<p>"I can't."</p>
<p>"Harry said you were nice. You're his friend, right? Why aren't you being nice?" More words, more manipulation, more cracks to Hermione's shattering resolve. "He shouldn't be friends with someone as mean as you. All I want is a towel."</p>
<p>Hermione swallowed, still laying on the ground. Gabrielle was so close, only five feet away. Perhaps she could offer the poor girl a hug without letting her hands gain contact. It shouldn't be so hard. "I can't touch you. You'll die if I touch you."</p>
<p>"No, I won't. No one can die from a single touch. No one has that power. You're being silly." She giggled, though it was interrupted by a hiccup.</p>
<p>Harry had that power, back in his first year, destroying Quirrell with a single touch. And now she had that power, a curse if anyone were to ask her. It was extremely rare, though not unheard of. Even if this wasn't real, not to those outside the prison, it wreaked havoc on her mind. Not being able to touch anything was maddening. She would choose to lose her sight over this. She would sooner cut off her hands than have this continue.</p>
<p>"I do."</p>
<p>"Please help me, Hermione. This place is scary. I want to go home."</p>
<p>"I can't help you."</p>
<p>Oh, how she wished she could. How much it ached was incomparable to anything.</p>
<p>"You don't have to touch me to help me," Gabrielle insisted. More water dripped onto the floor, pooling into a small stream stretching towards Hermione's outstretched fingers. In a few minutes, it would be here. How long had they been here already? Minutes? Hours? Days?</p>
<p>Of course, time passed differently in here to the outside. It was a relative thing. That was almost the only thing she was sure of.</p>
<p>Cautiously, Hermione clambered to her feet, extremely aware of where her hands were going. It was slow going, but eventually, she was a foot away from Gabrielle. She sat down next to her, gently placing her arm over her shoulders. Even a single touch would start Gabrielle (not real, not real) down the path of disintegration.</p>
<p>Once it started, it didn't stop.</p>
<p>It was almost as if time existed in her hands. Anything she touched was rapidly accelerated through all the stages of living until nothing but dust remained.</p>
<p>There had to be a way to help Gabrielle without touching her.</p>
<p>"Listen to me, Gabrielle. Things are going to be okay. I'm going to help you get out of here, back to Fleur, where you can be warm and dry and have fun. You don't belong here, and neither do I, but I'll make sure you get out first." Her voice faded to a whisper. "I'll make sure of it."</p>
<p>Gabrielle perked up. "How?"</p>
<p>"I don't know yet. But there has to be a way." She paused for a second, thinking so fast her mind nearly melted. "Okay, this is what I want you to do. Think of home. Think of all the things you love, all the things you want right now. Think about them, visualise them. Let it be all that you think about." Gabrielle closed her eyes following Hermione's advice.</p>
<p>Her teeth worried against her lip. This wasn't a good idea. All it would do was get Gabrielle into a worse state, which was impressive considering how distraught the tiny girl already was. Unbidden, a metallic taste met her tongue.</p>
<p>Ah.</p>
<p>Blood.</p>
<p>So she could bleed in this place. It must be the disintegration that stopped the bleeding. Then again, the only time it stopped when she released her fingers was using it on herself.</p>
<p>Gabrielle sniffed. "I'm thinking so hard, but nothing is happening. I want my family, Hermione." She shrunk even smaller. "I want Fleur."</p>
<p>"Keep thinking, Gabrielle. I know you can do it. You've just got to think a little bit harder. You've got this."</p>
<p>Gabrielle clenched her jaw, temples flexing with her effort. Gingerly, Hermione withdrew her arm, desperately trying to figure out what to do. It wasn't exactly like this was an easy situation. No, that would defeat the entire purpose of this place, she thought bitterly. But, like every other level, there would be a solution. Maybe not for others, but there always was for her.</p>
<p>An action, or a word, that triggered the Breach to open up and swallow her whole. She'd have to figure it out and fast. She wasn't going to let Gabrielle suffer, not like she let Nadia suffer (there was nothing she could have done, Nadia was already doomed from the start) back in the White.</p>
<p>Gabrielle's hand suddenly whipped out, grabbing hard onto Hermione's wrist. She recoiled, yanking her arm back in absolute horror. Gabrielle wasn't going to die, not today, not even if she wasn't real. That didn't matter. She was real, right here and right now, and Hermione would do everything in her power to help her.</p>
<p>"Please, you can't touch me, you'll die," Hermione begged, still pulling away from Gabrielle. "Let go of me!" Nothing of the sort happened. Gabrielle hung on tight, an iron grip, almost supernaturally strong. Nothing Hermione did got her to release her grasp.</p>
<p>"I'm not dying yet, am I?" Her voice was gentle, soft, innocent in only the way a child's could be.</p>
<p>"Let go, please. I won't have another death on my hands. You've got to let go."</p>
<p>Still, nothing happened.</p>
<p>"Hermione, I'm okay. Can't you see, I'm fine? I'm okay. You can stop worrying now. Things have changed."</p>
<p>Hermione's eyes opened. She didn't even know she closed them in her panic. In front of her, Gabrielle grinned. Now completely dry, dressed in a gorgeous dress Hermione assumed to be an heirloom from her family, lips back to their previous colour.</p>
<p>This...this hadn't happened before. This was supposed to be impossible. Was this what she was looking for? That way out? For all she knew, this entire event was an elaborate facade, to trick her into touching Gabrielle. She wouldn't let anything of the sort happen, not even if she was sure of it. Her resolve would stand strong.</p>
<p>"You can touch me."</p>
<p>"No I can't. I won't. Don't look at me like that." Gabrielle brought a gentle hand up to cup Hermione's cheek. Her touch was so light, so missed, it made her heart bloom. How long had it been since someone touched her like this? She couldn't count the minutes, the hours, the days. Time passed so quickly, yet didn't seem to pass at all. Nothing and everything, all at the same time. How was she to know?</p>
<p>"Let yourself be helped. Come on, it's alright. You can touch me." Gabrielle's hand, still gripped tight onto Hermione's wrist, began guiding it up to her alabaster cheek. Hermione jerked back, eyes wide with fear. She wouldn't be the death of another person, of another person she cared deeply about. "Let it happen."</p>
<p>"I won't."</p>
<p>No matter how much she tried to resist, Gabrielle dragged her hand closer. How strong was this little girl?</p>
<p>"Don't, don't!"</p>
<p>Her hand made contact with Gabrielle's cheek. She opened her mouth to scream as the little girl crumbled away to nothing, aged before her eyes, became one pile of ashes among many. Her ears waited for the answering screams, that terrible noise, the pleas to stop but she could do no such thing.</p>
<p>Yet nothing came.</p>
<p>Gabrielle sat there, beaming brightly as the twinkling stars in the night sky. Slowly, she let go of Hermione's wrist whilst lowering her other hand on Hermine's cheek.</p>
<p>Hermione didn't move.</p>
<p>"I can touch you."</p>
<p>Four simple words, words she'd longed to say since the moment she arrived in this Godforsaken place. A simple phrase to others, yet meaning the entire world to her. No longer would she have to live in fear of killing others with a mere touch. Maybe miracles were possible.</p>
<p>Maybe this was her way out.</p>
<p>"Yes, you can touch me. I told you it was a silly power, silly. I think I'm going to go home now. It was nice to see you again. Thank you for helping me."</p>
<p>Gabrielle began to fade, a golden light encasing her whole body. "No, wait, don't go!" Hermione brought her other hand up to cradle Gabrielle's face, still in awe she could touch someone. "Don't...go."</p>
<p>And then she was gone, leaving Hermione along again.</p>
<p>The crushing silence returned full force.</p>
<p>"I could touch her," Hermione whispered. "Does that mean…"</p>
<p>Gingerly, she placed a finger down on her opposite arm, preparing for the telltale burn that came along with it.</p>
<p>Nothing happened.</p>
<p>"Oh my God," she choked out, placing a hand over her mouth. "I can touch again."</p>
<p>
  <em>It would seem that you can.</em>
</p>
<p>This time, no anger coursed through her veins at the voice. Only acceptance. The Warden was still here, yes. Watching her every move, most likely laughing at her incompetence, her swinging emotions. But that didn't mean she wasn't going to move forward, take every challenge that was thrown at her and emerge victorious on the other side.</p>
<p>"Yes, I can. It's nice, you know."</p>
<p>
  <em>I suppose it would be.</em>
</p>
<p>Where Gabrielle stood, the Breach opened once again, and Hermione gladly stepped into it, dreading the whatever would come next.</p>
<p>But whatever it was, she would face it head-on.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Loki glared down at Helgarth with the blistering intensity of a Jotunheim winter.</p>
<p>"She turned up to work, and then never came out. That's all I know, I swear!" Helgarth whimpered as the knife pressed even further into her throat, Loki growling. "I swear!"</p>
<p>"If there is one thing I can smell, it is a lie. Now, why don't we try again? What happened to Hermione?" He would pull the answer out of this woman piece by piece if he had to, never stopping until she relinquished what he so craved. She would answer him.</p>
<p>Finally, Helgarth screamed out, "It's the portal! Something happened with the portal, I don't know what. I was too scared to go in there, and it's been going berserk ever since she disappeared." Behind her glasses, her eyes bugged out. "It isn't safe to go in there to find out what happened. I didn't tell anyone because I was scared."</p>
<p>Loki scoffed. "You are utterly pathetic. Take me to this portal."</p>
<p>"No, you don't understand, it isn't safe. You'll die the second you set foot in that room, and this isn't the first time it's happened!" She slapped a hand over her mouth. Loki raised an eyebrow. There was more to this than it first seemed. Helgarth, in all her snivelling worm-ness, was covering up a conspiracy. Oh, the pleasure it would give Loki to tear it apart, bring it down to nothing but rubble and dust littering the floor.</p>
<p>Hermione would thank him.</p>
<p>"You will tell me on the way to the portal," he ordered, yanking her to her feet. She stumbled, barely able to keep her balance, rubbing her throat. Small droplets of red squeezed between her fingers. A faint scar, a thin white line, would always ring around the front of her throat. Magic would do nothing to remove it, not when the wound was inflicted by an enchanted dagger.</p>
<p>"I will do no such thing!"</p>
<p>Poor thing, she believed she had a choice. As if trying would wield different results.</p>
<p>"Tell me, and start walking." He held the same dagger to her back, pressed in hard enough she would be feeling phantom pains for weeks. "Hold no detail back. I will know when you are lying."</p>
<p>Shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, she began walking, spurred along by the sharp point embedded into her back. "Three years ago, one of my employees disappeared into the portal. Her name was Nadia Shaw. The portal did the same thing then, and it took a year to get it contained. Even now it is fluctuating. She was never found."</p>
<p>"So you covered it up to save your own sorry hide," Loki sneered. "Why does that not surprise me?"</p>
<p>"They would have shut the project down! There was nothing else to be done. I'm so close to discovering what the portal means, I can just feel it. Another few years and I'll be there." Even with the dagger, she had no common sense. Talking about grandeur like Hermione wasn't missing, like the glory of discovering the meaning of the portal would bring her back.</p>
<p>It wouldn't.</p>
<p>And Loki wasn't just going to stand around listening to drivel, to excuse after excuse, from a woman who didn't know how to stop talking. Who didn't know when to tell the truth.</p>
<p>It disgusted him, as opposite a feeling as the glee of feeling her blood drip onto his hand.</p>
<p>"So in your opinion, it is okay to sacrifice people for your personal gain?"</p>
<p>She glared at him over her shoulder. "For the portal? Yes. The advancements that could be made from it is incredibl―gurk!"</p>
<p>Eyes wide, hands clutched to the gaping wound slashing across her throat, Helena Helgarth staggered back into the slighting swaying wall. Blood gushed down her front, painting her garish clothes a deep crimson. She crumpled like paper, collapsing to the ground, gurgling and gurgling. Her previously white teeth looked like she ate someone, her face paling so dramatically she would blend in with snow.</p>
<p>Loki didn't spare her a second glance. He'd heard enough. Enough to set his blood to boil. Who did she think she was, acting as a God? He was the god here, the one who made the decisions. Helena Helgarth, who thought herself able to dictate life and death, be the judge, jury and executioner all at once, wasn't fit to lick the dirt off his boots.</p>
<p>She got what she deserved.</p>
<p>With a swish of his fingers, the blood staining his clothes (some of his favourites) disappeared. He grit his teeth, moving forward. The strangely swaying corridor, almost as if he was back on a wooden ship in a calming rolling sea, never did seem to end. On and on he walked, temper rising with every passing second. The entrance to the portal chamber, as Hermione described, should be a heavy door on the right side of the hallway. Impossible to miss, seeing as it was the only door for metres and metres.</p>
<p>"Show yourself," he hissed, reaching out with his own magic, searching for that heavy feeling he knew to be associated with the portal. That intoxicating scent that lay in the air, fizzled your hair, imbued your limbs with a feeling of false invulnerability. That was what he searched for, extending those tendrils further and further, until finally―</p>
<p>There!</p>
<p>Oh, that pathetic woman. She thought hiding it behind a false wall enchanted to dampen magic would be able to stop him. A lesser man, perhaps. But he was Loki of Asgard, and enchantments bowed to him.</p>
<p>The wall shimmered and winked out of existence as he passed through it. What greeted him on the other side stopped his heart, breath hitching in his throat.</p>
<p>How was Hermione ever going to survive this?</p>
<p>A great whirlwind, sparking purple and green, shot around the chamber, so strong he brought his arms up to shield his eyes. Faint screams, pleas, shouts for mercy, rode the storm. They never stopped. The wardstones around the portal glowed, a blinding light, barely containing the magic from lashing out and destroying everything in a ten-mile radius. Every single rune etched into the walls shared the same light, all directed towards the eye of the storm.</p>
<p>The burning portal.</p>
<p>Purple flames licked up the decrepit stone, hissing and spitting. So hot Loki could feel it from metres away. The magic surrounding it was oppressive, heavy, weighing down on his shoulders despite how strong he was. And as he pushed through the whirlwind towards the inferno, there was only one conclusion to come to.</p>
<p>This wasn't Midgardian magic.</p>
<p>The intensity, the aching that it left in the bones of those unfamiliar to it...no, this wasn't Midgardian at all.</p>
<p>It was unmistakably Asgardian.</p>
<p>And Hermione was trapped in the middle of it.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It was dark. That was the first thing she noticed. A close second was faint laugher, distorted as if coming from a staticky radio. The sound was familiar, close, something she knew dearly. That laughter only belonged to one person.</p>
<p>"Marcy?" she groaned, peeling her eyes open. Everything started out blurry, before slowly returning to normal. Next to her, Marcy grinned, still writing away on her paper. "What's going on?"</p>
<p>What was the prison going to bring her this time?</p>
<p>Clearly nothing good, given where she was. A room saturated with boredom and wrist cramps, dreams of doing something more. Quills scratched across top quality parchment, feet tapped impatiently on the worn, frayed carpet covering the floor. Thoughts projected into the air, all screaming: "I want to get out of here!" Marcy, Greg, all her previous co-workers, gazing at her with mirth in their eyes.</p>
<p>"What's going on is you fell asleep on the job," Marcy cackled gleefully. Somehow it was still a whisper. "I've never seen you do that before! I didn't even know you could do that. Good thing you woke up before the boss came out, or he would have had your head for dinner."</p>
<p>Horror filled her. She did what? Even here, in the prison, the thought of falling asleep on the job filled her with absolute dread.</p>
<p>A booming voice, thick with barely concealed annoyance, cleaved through her thoughts "Granger! Get in here!" She jolted upwards, keeping a sarcastic comment from slipping through her lips. Honestly, that man brought out the absolute worst in her.</p>
<p>"Yes, Sir," she said, standing and making her way over, ignoring Marcy's continued laughter. She seemed particularly nasty today, not that Hermione was surprised. After all, this place was meant to torment her into absolute madness. She couldn't begin to imagine what horrors this level (five out of seven, towards the end, nearly there) had in store for her. Best to play it quiet and wait for the big event to happen.</p>
<p>From what she determined, the exit to the level only opened up once she learned a fundamental lesson about herself, or came to a conclusion about what was happening to her. Why this was happening, in an ancient time prison, was beyond her. Now was the time to learn as quickly as possible. This wouldn't be any problem whatsoever. The sooner she learned, concluded, reasoned the meaning behind this one, the sooner she would be out.</p>
<p>Time to keep her emotions from clouding rational thought and get out of here as soon as possible.</p>
<p>She entered the man's office, standing in the very specific spot he pointed out on her first day on the job. His pedantic actions would not be missed in the slightest.</p>
<p>"Granger, the higher-ups have told me to give you a promotion." He sneered it out as if just saying the words caused him great amounts of pain. Her eyes widened. A what now? "They say that your work ethic has impressed them and they want you to move up. If it were my choice, I would keep you here until you learned your place." Yeah, like she needed to be told that again. "But, what they say goes. Pack your stuff, you're leaving in twenty minutes."</p>
<p>"Are you serious?" The words blurted out before she could stop herself. The boss raised a bushy eyebrow.</p>
<p>"No, I'm a snowman. Get your ass out there and get out of here before someone wakes up and realises their mistake." He returned to his work, making sure to enchant his quill beforehand to avoid wrist cramps.</p>
<p>The hypocrisy!</p>
<p>Hermione didn't care about that, though. She bounded out of the office like she weighed nothing, scooping all of her belongings into her bottomless bag. Within five minutes, she was packed, humming a happy tune under her breath.</p>
<p>"What's got you so happy?" Marcy asked, still writing away. "You look as if you got a promotion or something."</p>
<p>"I did!" Hermione squealed. Several quills stopped scratching, ears stretching her way. Getting a promotion was practically unheard of in this Merlin-forsaken place. "I'm leaving now. I'll catch up with you after we both finish. Meet in the atrium?"</p>
<p>"Are you kidding?" Marcy jumped up and wrapped her arms around Hermione. "This is awesome! I'll see you then. Go get 'em, girl!"</p>
<p>Whatever did she do to deserve a friend like Marcy? Now she was back to normal, this was a breath of fresh air. No loop, no apparitions of her lowest moment.</p>
<p>Just a small triumph in a job she never should have left.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Two months later, she received another promotion. This time, it was to one of the highest offices in the department. Marcy squealed in excitement when Hermione told her, enveloping her in yet another hug. If there was one thing Marcy adored, it was hugging. When she told Harry and Ron (and wasn't it nice to have friends who acted like normal for once, false as they were?) they took her out to dinner and toasted to her future success. Her parents gave proud smiles that lifted her heart for the rest of the week.</p>
<p>But there were doubts.</p>
<p>Sitting at her desk, with a properly enchanted quill, she couldn't help but think that this was all too good to be true. Too many good things happening. People acting too normal, with no little glitches to tip her off that this wasn't real. Maybe it was real, and she'd been spat out back in time before she ever accepted the job that landed her in here. What she wouldn't give to rewind time and make that be the case.</p>
<p>Deep down, she knew it wasn't true, knew that she was still imprisoned.</p>
<p>Though, surely a little bit of hope wouldn't go amiss.</p>
<p>"Everything alright, Granger?" Greyson, her office neighbour, asked. A lovely man with a husband and three children, all whom she had met after her second day of working there. There was a certain charm to him. When he asked you over for dinner, it was impossible to say no to that warm smile and glittering eyes.</p>
<p>"Yeah, everything's fine. I've just got this feeling that everything is a bit off. I've moved up so quickly." Truly, it was rather strange. Things like this didn't happen, yet here she was, in a position she was now happy with, able to use charms, working towards actual change. Her bill to introduce a council where magical creatures, if they so wished, could advocate for their rights without wizards and witches speaking on their behalf, was swiftly become a reality.</p>
<p>Greyson shrugged. "If anyone deserves those promotions, it's you. Hard work is rewarded here, and you're certainly one of the hardest workers I've ever met. If I were you, I wouldn't question it." He gave her another sunny smile. "You don't need to doubt yourself. You belong here."</p>
<p>"I suppose," she muttered, returning to the schedule she was currently drafting up. Tomorrow was a big day, the meeting with the centaur herd in the forbidden forest. That she managed to get a meeting with them at all was nothing short of a miracle. Also a talking point in the office. Oh well, she worked in a small office and word travelled quick. She would take this over slaving away at a desk writing pamphlets any day.</p>
<hr/>
<p>And so, life went on. Months passed, her bill passed, she was hailed as a hero once more. Many newspaper articles were written of her achievements, though not all agreed with her activism. Many claimed her to be lulling the wizarding community into a false sense of security. Where that idea came from, she had no idea. There were many bizarre ideas in this world, and this happened to be one of the tamer ones.</p>
<p>Work began on her next project, a fund for children going to Hogwarts who couldn't afford to pay for robes or their wand or books for the many courses. Where the money was going to come from, she wasn't sure, but she would find a way. She always did. Just the memories of first years having to borrow books from the friends, shiver without any coat, gaze wide-eyed at the feasts before them, was enough to spur her on.</p>
<p>She wouldn't let anyone be like that again.</p>
<p>More months passed, and her bill passed to raucous success. So much praise was heaped upon her shoulders, so many congratulations passed her way, that the Ministry decided to promote her once again. She said goodbye to Greyson, who farewelled her with teary eyes, packed her belongings and moved to her new office space.</p>
<p>She wasn't expecting to have her own office. When she entered, her jaw dropped, staring around the ornate space. A heavy desk, carved with patterns of strafing ivy and intricate flowers, sat in the centre, a cushy looking chair behind it. All the shelf space she could wish for, wall space for photos, chests and enchantments and rare objects that piqued her interest.</p>
<p>This was amazing.</p>
<p>With a grin, she began customising the room, hanging up photographs, filling the walls with photos of her family and friends, moments trapped in time. They waved cheerfully at her, and she couldn't help but wave back. It took her more tries than she would like to admit to find the correct shade of eggshell blue for the walls, a wonderful contrast with the dark, rich wood that made up the majority of the office. Several rugs found themselves a new home on the floor, and the fancy chandelier changed into a fixture that could hold Lumos, the wizarding equivalent of a lightbulb.</p>
<p>What a wonderful place to call her own.</p>
<p>That afternoon, towards the end of her first day, a knock sounded on her door. She glanced up, jerked out of her deep concentration. "Come in!"</p>
<p>The door creaked open, rather ominously, before:</p>
<p>"SURPRISE!" Several voices shouted out at once, at least five people spilling into her office. She immediately stood, heart-lifting out of her chest.</p>
<p>All her favourite people were here. She couldn't ask for better friends. Ron, Harry, Marcy, Greyson, Luna, Ginny, they were all here. And in their arms were presents, as well as a large cake floating in the middle. And if her senses didn't fail here, which they rarely did, it was a red velvet cake.</p>
<p>"You guys," she said in disbelief, "what are you all doing here?" A stupid question, but she couldn't bring herself to correct it. This moment was too precious to waste time on mere trivialities.</p>
<p>"To celebrate, silly," Ginny called out, dumping her present on the end of Hermione's desk, far away from her work. "You're moving up in the world. What sort of friends would we be if we didn't recognise that?"</p>
<p>Hermione's heart swelled, and she spent the rest of the evening celebrating, never wishing for anything more. This was perfect, exactly where she wanted to be, what she wanted to be doing. Nothing could ruin this moment, this day, this life. It was what she made it, and it was <em>beautiful.</em></p>
<hr/>
<p>Years passed, Hermione growing older and happier with every passing day. Ron, now her husband, rose through the Auror ranks, Harry became the most beloved professor Hogwarts had ever seen, and life was good. The change she made, though hated by many, brought a new light to shine onto the wizarding world. Magical creatures now had rights, children no longer went cold, ancient magic deemed evil due to the users was now being opened up again, purebloods were no longer forced to change their ancient traditions and Muggleborns were no longer forced to partake.</p>
<p>Everything was good.</p>
<p>But it was about to get better.</p>
<p>The results of the election, one of the most controversial in history, were soon to arrive. Counted twice, thrice, as many times as needed to confirm the results. Her leg bobbed in anticipation, eyes glancing around, fingers twiddling with each other. In a few minutes, she would know whether the last few years, full of campaigning and changing the world for the better, would all be worth it.</p>
<p>But she needed to stop fiddling. That wasn't a good image to project; 'Yes, I may be the next leader of the English magical community and I am as nervous as a first-year before being sorted.'</p>
<p>Her opposition, a woman named Belinda Bathwrought, gave her a snide glance, turning her face towards the crowd gathered in front of them. Hermione did the same, crossing her fingers on the inside. Bathwrought wasn't nasty, per se, but their beliefs clashed in many ways. Hermione thought of her as a nuisance</p>
<p>"The results are in!" The announcer called out. Hermoine snapped to attention, Bathwrought doing the same. This moment, this would be it. Whether she won, whether she was destined to lose and repeat this process yet again. She was Hermione Granger, and she didn't give up that easily.</p>
<p>From working at that desk over a decade ago to being one of two contenders for Minister of Magic, Hermione was thankful for every opportunity ever given to her. Rising through the ranks, bringing change sorely needed to an antiquated world...it all came together today.</p>
<p>"And your Minister of Magic is...Hermione Granger!"</p>
<p>The crowd burst into applause, cameras flashed, and Hermione smiled so wide her cheeks would be aching for days. She didn't care, though, this was all she ever wanted.</p>
<p>And then everything froze.</p>
<p>
  <em>Ah, aren't dreams wonderful things?</em>
</p>
<p>Reality crashed into her like ice water. Dread crept over her skin, into her heart, as she remembered the lone fact she neglected to keep in her mind for all these years: This wasn't real.</p>
<p>Oh, how it hurt. It ached, burned up against her skin. How could this be happening? Everything was perfect, just the way she wanted it to be. Everything she ever desired, wanted to do. She changed the Wizarding World for the better, yet here she was being thrown back into reality like a rag doll long past its last use.</p>
<p>"No," she choked out, falling to her knees. Sobs wracked her frame, as every memory she refused to keep came rushing back in, the things she knew were real. How would she ever let this go? How could she? All those wonderful years an illusion, everything she learned a waste of time.</p>
<p>Oh, time.</p>
<p>What a fickle thing.</p>
<p>No time would have passed on the outside. It was that same feeling again, of everything and nothing all at once. Time rushing around her, a blazing inferno, yet frozen, never moving, cold and indifferent. That mysterious thing she once used to travel, that she thought fascinating and wonderful. Now it only served to bring fury to her fingers, sharp words to her tongue, a tough resolve to her mind.</p>
<p>Oh, time.</p>
<p>What a terrible thing.</p>
<p><em>Are you learning your purpose, yet? </em>The voice, something not heard for eons (it was no time at all, mere minutes have passed), thrummed deep in her head. Impossible to avoid. Impossible to like.</p>
<p>"You don't own me." She shuddered, drawing in a deep breath. Tears would do no good here. She had to move on, leave behind the dream. Escape to the real world, where she could make real changes. The frozen crowd around her, ghosts of cheers dancing through the air, now revealed itself to be egregiously false. Nothing was right, and yet she yearned for that sweet world where everything went right, where she worked hard and got what she deserved.</p>
<p>The hardest bit would be going back to the real world and having everything reverse to the way it used to be (nothing changed, nothing at all).</p>
<p><em>No, but I do control you. I am in charge here, </em>the voice said. Levels passed, Hermione would have been filled with righteous anger, about ready to strike the voice down where it stood. Now, only resignation filled her, a deep, bitter sense of loathing, and deep, black hopelessness threatening to consume everything she knew herself to be.</p>
<p>"Please...let me go."</p>
<p>
  <em>Not yet. You've yet to do what is set out for you.</em>
</p>
<p>She gazed at the sky, face crinkled in anguish, and cried out, "I know I can't change everything, I know that I made the wrong decision. I know I'm a fool, and I regret ever leaving that stupid, stupid job. But I did, okay? And now you're making me sit through everything I didn't do? I can't change what I did."</p>
<p>The realisation of the wrong decisions she made, of all her excitement being for naught, hurt. It hurt more than anything. Yet she would push through. When she got out, nothing was stopping her from making those changes herself.</p>
<p>
  <em>Good, you're finally learning.</em>
</p>
<p>Gold light encased her, and she cursed everything about this place as she was dragged into the second to last level, or so she hoped. Teaching her lessons she didn't need to be taught, and for what reason? Was this prison meant to teach children values found in Aesop's Fables? No, something was going on here, and she would find out what.</p>
<p>She would find out if it was the last thing she ever did.</p>
<p>Nothing worked.</p>
<p>Nothing he did even made a dent in the storm.</p>
<p>No amount of magic, nothing his mother taught him, not even becoming incorporeal.</p>
<p>Nothing.</p>
<p>Nothing.</p>
<p>Nothing.</p>
<p>
  <em>You are nothing.</em>
</p>
<p>That voice, banished for years, returned to the back of his head. He beat it away before it could latch on, refusing to return to that dark plane of being. No, not while Hermione was trapped within this anomaly of a portal, wherever it took her. Not while her life was at risk (she isn't going to survive this, you know that).</p>
<p>"No," he growled, continuing to push forward. Once again, his results were <em>nothing</em>. Everything he tried was fruitless, useless, unable to yield the results he so craved. "I won't let that happen."</p>
<p>Yet no matter how hard he pushed, he didn't move.</p>
<p>Hermione was going to die in there.</p>
<p>And he could do nothing about it but try again and again to get to her, useless as Thor was at negotiating. Never before had such a sense of failure beseeched him, and he hated it. Hated it, hated it, loathed it with such an intensity it was a surprise his gaze didn't carve through the storm.</p>
<p>Time to consider his other options, and fast.</p>
<hr/>
<p>In an instant, he stood in Hermione's lounge. Weasley leapt out of his skin, barking in surprise. Usually, this would bring Loki inordinate amounts of pleasure. However, it only made him move faster, grabbing on Weasley's shoulder with a grip so hard it drew a wince.</p>
<p>"I know where she is." Hope bloomed on Weasley's face, only to be snuffed out in an instant. "I cannot reach her, the magic in the portal chamber is far too strong for even I." It pained him to admit his own defeat. His ego must be set aside in the pursuit of finding Hermione, no longer did it matter.</p>
<p>The only thing that mattered was efficiency.</p>
<p>Weasley''s eyes darkened. "Fuck Helgarth," he spat out, wrenching himself free of Loki's grip. "She deserved to rot in prison for eternity."</p>
<p>"Oh, she's gone to a place far worse than that, I can assure you. She is already there." Loki beelined to the files on the coffee table. "What information did you manage to gather from your trip to the Aurors?"</p>
<p>"Don't you already know where she is?"</p>
<p>Loki clenched his teeth. "Every moment with you makes me more sure of your stupidity. I already know where she is, but every sliver of information takes us closer to finding her." Weasley didn't even react to the name-calling, instead nodding intensely. "While you gather these, I am going to go up to her study to retrieve her notes on the portal." He made to leave, before saying, "You need to remember that every little scrap of information matters. We leave no stone unturned, do you hear me?"</p>
<p>"Understood." He grinned slightly, almost forced. "You're a right bastard, you know that, but you sure know how to get the job done. And Loki, we'll find her."</p>
<p>The thought of not being able to save her was gut-wrenching, so he banished the thought before it even had a proper chance to form. Now was the time to keep his mind on the goal, rather than letting those tantalising whispers of failure, of hurt, drag him down into the attractive abyss of nothingness</p>
<p>He was Loki, Prince of Asgard, and he would find Hermione if it was the last thing he did. Neither storm nor magic would stand in his way.</p>
<p>"There is no other option," he said, voice surprisingly quiet.</p>
<p>With a heavy heart, he strode up the stairs towards the study. Pictures hung on the walls, the most recent ones containing himself and Hermione. His favourite by far depicted that glorious night out at the roller rink, him with his arm over her shoulder, Hermione sporting an infectious grin. That night would forever hold a special place in his heart, though he would never dare tell anyone on Asgard lest he open himself to ill-thought-out mockery.</p>
<p>One day, though. One day he would stand tall, with Hermione at his side, unashamed as they did whatever took their fancy. The world would know their names and recognise their brilliance.</p>
<p>Today was not that day.</p>
<p>Sooner than he thought, he stood outside the door to the study. For an unknown reason, stepping inside suddenly became significantly more difficult. Surely the mere act of pushing a door open and walking inside a room wasn't this hard. All that lay inside was Hermione's deepest research, memories of long nights spent discussing theories, the echo of her laughter.</p>
<p>Her sanctum.</p>
<p>Get it together, he thought. Finding Hermione was the top priority. He slaughtered someone in her name, entering her study was mere child's play compared to such an act.</p>
<p>Finally, he stepped inside, memories washing over him with unrelenting force. These weren't going to be the last, mere dregs to cling onto. Hermione would be back, they would set out to make more memories.</p>
<p>Taking a steadying breath, he began foraging through the papers, scrolls, books, searching for anything to do with the portal. Thanks to his magic, this task took only a few minutes. Everything he looked over held inordinate amounts of pain.</p>
<p>What was happening to her in that place? Ancient Asgardian magic was not to be trifled with, especially complex enchantments such as the Portal. Whatever was going on inside there, it wasn't good. Loki was no fool. He recognised that if she didn't get out, and soon, she would die a most painful death.</p>
<p>On the centre of the desk, her bill for the rights of magical creatures sat. The passion she held for the project was unprecedented. To the right, her notes on the compatibility of Asgardian and Midgardian magic. And there, to the left, her work folder. Contained within was everything he would need. Thank whatever god there was that wasn't Odin for Hermione's organisational skills.</p>
<p>He returned to the lounge with haste. Not a second to lose, not even to treasured memories tinged with tragedy.</p>
<p>Distraction, usually so foreign to him, now relished every opportunity to batter against his unusually scattered mind. Once again, he pushed it aside, placing the papers down on the coffee table.</p>
<p>"This is what I found, now go over what you gathered."</p>
<p>Weasley nodded. "The Auror squad didn't manage to find much more than I already knew. They did manage to find out she disappeared at approximately two in the afternoon, though how they knew that without knowing Helgarth, the bitch," he spat those two words with a venom Loki didn't know he was capable of, "was lying I don't know. There are several witness accounts of a strange magical signature being sensed throughout a ten-kilometre radius, which I suspect is related to the portal."</p>
<p>"Yes, that will be from when she was captured by the infernal thing." To know it extended ten kilometres...Hermione was in more trouble than originally estimated.</p>
<p>"There are also files that were started today on all the people she knew, as suspects. I'm included in this, so is Harry, and most of her friends. We've already been questioned, but no stone should be left unturned." Weasley opened the last folder, handing it over to Loki. "As you can see, they also gathered information on a 'suspicious male dressed in strange clothes.'" Loki groaned, while also simultaneously applauding how thorough this team was. "You're the lead suspect at this moment."</p>
<p>"I am not responsible for her disappearance."</p>
<p>"Way to state the obvious, mate," Ron muttered. "Apart from that, all the information is basically the same as what I gathered. What about her research on the portal?"</p>
<p>Loki handed Weasley the papers, already knowing the contents for himself. Ron also knew them, but a small refresher never hurt anyone. "Her work is mainly cataloguing the runes in the chamber and possible meanings for them, though she wouldn't be able to find most of them, as they are Asgardian in nature. Now, there―"</p>
<p>"Hang on a second, Asgardian? Isn't that where you are from?" Weasley leaned forward slightly. "What in Merlin's name are they doing here?"</p>
<p>"I have been asking myself that exact question. Unfortunately, I am nowhere close to finding an answer myself, although I do have my theories. The runes themselves are ancient, far older than I. They date back to when my father was in his prime."</p>
<p>"Which is?"</p>
<p>"Over one thousand years ago, possibly two thousand…"</p>
<p>The discussion continued long into the night until a detailed plan was formulated. This was going to be the operation of a lifetime, and though Loki scoffed at those words, he secretly agreed with Weasley (who perhaps wasn't as bad as he expressed).</p>
<p>Tomorrow, Hermione would be out of that forsaken place.</p>
<p>No longer would she suffer</p>
<p>No longer would he do nothing.</p>
<p>Be nothing.</p>
<p>
  <em>Nothing.</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>Already Hermione could tell this level would drive her nuts.</p>
<p>It wasn't anything big, like the time loop or meeting past versions of herself. No, this one was small, subtle, barely audible and yet it was there. All that surrounded her was that endless, blinding white that left her wishing for dark and that infernal ticking sound.</p>
<p>
  <em>Tick.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tock.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tick.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tock,</em>
</p>
<p>On and on and on, the source nowhere to be found yet surrounding her at every moment. She wasn't surprised at the lack of source. With everything she went through, the lack of a clock shouldn't bother her so much. Yet wherever she went, however long she ventured, it followed her. Always the same distance, so close. So, so close. Well, at least she wasn't going to make someone disintegrate by a single touch. Or have to face the reality of turning into a living statue.</p>
<p>This time around, the tattoo sitting smugly on the back of her hand taunted her. Even when she didn't look at it, it was there. When the endless white surrounded her and the only thing to her was herself and the Ticking, other thoughts tended to worm their way in. No matter how infallible she claimed her mind to be, they still managed to get it.</p>
<p>Typical.</p>
<p>Hmm, there had to be a good name for this level. So far, there was The White, the Loop, The Past, the Beach and The Missed. What would suit this place, give it a name, ground her? She hadn't been here long, mere minutes, but already it was beginning to grate on her nerves. The ticking, the tocking, the clock...there it was.</p>
<p>The Clock.</p>
<p>"You know, it would really be nice if I could just get out of here," she stated to no one in particular. The Warden may hear her, but it wasn't like they would bother to do anything. All they did was sit back and watch her suffering, most likely wolfing down popcorn. "Ever consider it?"</p>
<p><em>Patience, </em>the voice answered softly, almost as if it was sorry. She shook her head. That couldn't be right. <em>Everything will become clear when the time is right.</em></p>
<p>"I'm sorry?" The statement was still incredibly vague, but a step down from the absolute riddles of before. "The time is right?"</p>
<p><em>Everything has a time, Hermione, even me. Everything will become clear when the time is right. </em>Impossibly, regret tinged the voice, so different from the taunts and barbs of previous levels. And to use her name for the first time, so softly, so gently...she must be getting closer.</p>
<p>"You already said that, what does it mean? Why can't the time be now?" Her fingers flexed, teeth clenching together. Impatience, something she wasn't unfamiliar with in the slightest. "I've been in here for long enough haven't I? Isn't two months enough time to be trapped in here?" Silence answered her, though she knew the Warden remained. "Yeah, that's right. While you've trapped me here I've been thinking. I've got it all figured out. An ancient prison breaking down, and you've decided to trap me inside for one last conquest. I know that time passes quicker in here than the outside, so when I get out it won't have been long, two months at the maximum." She gulped in air. "And when I get out, I am destroying this place, no matter how long it takes."</p>
<p><em>Oh, child, </em>the voice chided, <em>it isn't that easy. There are forces at work far beyond your understanding, no matter how great your claim to intelligence may be. Eventually, everything will make sense, and though you won't thank me, you will understand.</em></p>
<p>"Understand what?" Hermione demanded, desperately trying to figure out where to look. "What else is there to understand?"</p>
<p><em>Everything. </em>The voice began growing quieter, pulling back. <em>But you will understand, and soon.</em></p>
<p>And then again, silence.</p>
<p>
  <em>Alone.</em>
</p>
<p>Silence save for the erratic drumbeat of her heart and the <em>tick-tock </em>of an invisible clock. What she wouldn't give for this to be over, to destroy the source of the sound. At least then she would be able to hear her thoughts clearly.</p>
<p>What did those words mean? So clear yet so vague. Strange...that was the word to describe them. The suddenly shifting personality, the almost caring tone in the voice. Phrases she never thought would be said. But mulling over words that were clearly meant to confuse her into a black hole of wondering would do no good.</p>
<p>Soon everything would become clear, she was sure of it.</p>
<p>Time to get out of here, fast track a way to freedom. The Rift, the Breach, whatever it was called, would be around here somewhere. To bask in that golden glow, hear that slight humming, feel the slight buzzing vibrating through her body.</p>
<p>No more lollygagging.</p>
<p>Time to get down to business.</p>
<p>Doing her best to block out the ticking, Hermione picked a random direction and started walking. It wasn't like there was anything to go to, with no conceivable lesson to learn. Unlike the others, she was completely stumped here. No matter how long she walked, how long she thought, nothing useful came to mind.</p>
<p>Perhaps the Warden wanted to watch her become increasingly annoyed? No, that wasn't how this place worked, nor was it a lesson. Each level came with a theme so there must be one to this level as well. A challenge for her, even more so than before. Nothing obvious jumped out at her...perhaps the ticking was a part of it? Find the source and find the exit. A giant scavenger hunt. No, that couldn't be right.</p>
<p>Or that's what the Warden wanted her to think.</p>
<p>A classic dilemma with an increasingly frustrating result. Well, lack of result. No result would turn up if she kept mulling over possibilities, lost in her own mind. Time to do something.</p>
<p>"Ah," she said, wincing as her heart tightened uncomfortably. She sucked air between her teeth, clutching at her chest. The ticking increased slightly in volume. "Okay, that's not normal." Still talking to herself, then. Actually, that was quite nice. A reprieve from the silence, her ever running brain. A way to put things in order.</p>
<p>Why did she ever stop doing this?</p>
<p>She continued walking, keeping a keen eye on her heart. It was definitely beating slower now, growing heavier with each passing hour. Definitely a clue to whatever was going on.</p>
<p>Once again, the ticking grew louder and ever more annoying.</p>
<p>"<em>Everything will become clear when the time is right," </em>she parrotted, clutching at her chest as the weight suddenly transitioned into pain. "Yeah, right. When will the time ever be right? What is there to wait for…oh my God."</p>
<p>And it hit her like a sledgehammer.</p>
<p>The point of this level was <em>patience. </em>The clock, the ticking, <em>patience. </em>Staying calm in the face of annoyance, keeping a level head when in irritating situations. Recognising that things took time, and that this would too.</p>
<p>It was so obvious she could have slapped herself. In fact, she did slap herself hard across the cheek, relishing in the sharp sting of pain. Not because she craved pain, but for the fact that it snapped her back to reality in an instant. As close to reality as she could be when imprisoned, she supposed.</p>
<p>It was a waiting game. A game she could play. Inside her head were many books, memorised to the letter, clamouring to be read once again. That could keep her entertained for days. Then there was reciting her repertoire of spells, and cultivating her recent hobby of poetry. Though she was humble enough to admit her shortcomings, with all the time in the world she would be sure to improve. Many other things could also occupy her time and drown out the ticking, distract from the pain in her chest.</p>
<p>Patience was the name of the game here.</p>
<p>And so, she waited. For days upon days, wandering through the white void, reading through books and reciting spells. Creating poems that were, honestly, quite bad and talking to herself about theories on the prison. The Warden didn't turn up again. The entire time, she was very aware of the ticking growing louder and louder, her limbs growing heavy and seizing up.</p>
<p>Despite this, she remained calm, breathing deep and strong. This would end eventually, all she had to do was wait.</p>
<p>
  <em>Tick.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tock.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tick.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tock.</em>
</p>
<p>Dogging her steps, growing louder by the minute. Overpowering, infuriating. Impossible. No source, yet everywhere. Often it dragger her out of fascinating narratives she was concocting.</p>
<p>On the seventh day she counted, something began moving under her skin on her arm. Round and round, notched, <em>metal. </em>Panic began rising, a scream ripping from her throat as cogs burst through her skin in all their bloody glory. The pain was like nothing she'd ever known before, a thousand white-hot knives slashing at her skin from the inside. Tearing through muscle, flesh, sinew, spreading up her arm to the rest of her body.</p>
<p>Inside her chest, her heart beat harder than ever before, the ticking getting louder and louder. Oh God...Oh God! The ticking was coming from her, she was the source. Her heart had been changed, morphed into metal, cogs and gears, and the rest of her was following.</p>
<p>"Help me!" She screamed out, though she knew no one would. "Please! I can't take it anymore!" She screamed out further as her legs began to transform, collapsing to the ground in agony. "Arrrrggghh!" Even more, so much pain it was all she could feel, all she knew, and she wished for nothing more than the sweet kiss of death to take her away from it.</p>
<p>Anything was better than this, anything at all.</p>
<p><em>You've waited long enough, </em>the voice returned once again, velvet smooth, deep and comforting. <em>It is time for you to move one.</em></p>
<p>Relief flooded her as, for once, help came, in the form of the Rift, the Breach, surrounding her in that warm golden glow. The pain faded away to a dull throbbing, the ticking replaced by that familiar fleshy beat. She closed her eyes, savouring the deep humming and slight buzzing.</p>
<p>But because she closed her eyes, she never saw the spectre of Loki running towards her, screaming out her name, reaching out for her as she disappeared, fingers stretched so far they stained white, inches from clasping onto her wrist.</p>
<p>Never heard his anguished cry at getting so close to saving her.</p>
<p>All she felt was satisfaction, fear and dread slipping into the mix. What was next? Either her hypothesis about seven levels would be proven correct, or she would be sentenced to eternity in this endless place, clinging onto memories of a better time, of friends, of family.</p>
<p>Of Loki.</p>
<hr/>
<p>They were ready.</p>
<p>A team of four, dressed in heavily enchanted armour, grimaces marring their face. Loki, Weasley, Potter and Lovegood. All determined to get Hermione back.</p>
<p>All prepared to die in the pursuit.</p>
<p>Before them, the great whirlwind of impenetrable magic howled, layer upon layer, impossibly strong. Somehow, they were going to get through it. Their plan, scant as it was, couldn't fail. Any longer in there would certainly kill Hermione, and that was something none of the group would have.</p>
<p>"I can feel it," Lovegood said, cautiously reaching forward. For the three hours Loki had known her, she had already proven herself to be quite the genius. A little bit scatterbrained, perhaps, but able to sense things invisible to others ("Not invisible, merely insignificant to those who don't stop to look," she said dreamily, eerie silver eyes piercing straight through him).</p>
<p>"Yeah, so can we," Weasley said, hands held in front of his face. The only member of the group who wasn't squinting was Potter, shielded by his glasses.</p>
<p>"No, you don't understand." She took a step forward, hand making contact with the storm. But unlike when Loki attempted to get through, she passed straight through it, unharmed and unbothered. "I can feel the emotions of everyone trapped inside. They're still alive, thousands of years later." A tear fell down her face. "They're hurting."</p>
<p>"What about Hermione?" Loki asked, desperate for answers. Despite his initial scepticism, he now thanked Potter a thousand times for suggesting Lovegood. "Can you feel her?"</p>
<p>"She's scared," Lovegood whispered. "And in pain. She's trying so hard to cling to herself, but she's fading away into anger and hate, and then nothing. We have to get down there and help her before it's too late." She turned to Loki. "She aches for you. You have to be the one to go and get her."</p>
<p>"And how do I do that?"</p>
<p>Years ago, he would never have lowered himself to asking such questions, and to a mortal at that. He would have scoffed, declaring himself superior and that he had no need for such knowledge. Now, he recognised his mistakes, how they would have cost him in the future. Hermione, Lovegood, Potter, even Weasley, all had something to offer. Each mortal did, and he was a fool not to see it sooner.</p>
<p>"You can't brute force your way through like before. That will only hurt her further. You must be subtle, calm, only then will the portal let you through. It must not detect you as a threat, or you will befall the same fate as Hermione. Here," she guided his hand to the edge of the storm, "like this. Nice and slow, you're the only one who can do this."</p>
<p>This didn't make a whit of sense, and yet he found himself slowly phasing through the storm, hand, then arm, then his entire body. Electricity sparked against his skin and clothes, intense stings barely stopped by the enchantments on his armour. He winced, continuing to push closer to the centre.</p>
<p>It was slow going, moving centimetres at a time. By the time he was halfway through the roiling magic, he heard Potter call out, "We'll wait here and secure the outside, be back soon!" Loki didn't reply, in fear of losing all the progress he made. He also didn't want the portal to react any more than it already was. The risk of harming Hermione was too great, not to mention the risk of harming people outside the edge of the storm as well.</p>
<p>Closer to the centre, the magic became thicker, heavier. He could barely see a foot in front of him, squinting hard. The sparks flared up further, hissing and spitting against his exposed skin, no doubt leaving his hands and face marred with red marks. He didn't care, though. The portal was so close in front of him, through the purple haze, past the roaring of the wind. His cape flapped behind him, teeth dry, eyes watering, hair tangled and knotted.</p>
<p>So close and yet so far.</p>
<p>Every ounce of strength went towards pushing forward, moving closer. He kept his emotions calm, hard as it was, kept visions of a tragic future from his mind, thinking only of the task at hand. Slowly, the storm parted to let him through, and he inched forward, hands finally reaching the stone of the portal. The etched runes, deep and crumbling, met his fingertips, and he breathed a sigh of relief.</p>
<p>Then everything stopped.</p>
<p>The magical storm subsided, so fast he would have questioned its existence if it weren't for the intense stinging on his cheeks and the starburst wounds covering his hands. At the doorway, Weasley, Potter and Lovegood stood sentinel, clearly unable to see him. Yet he could see the entire chamber as it originally was, protective signs covering every available inch of surface. The portal remained activated, humming slightly, a purple curtain of light hanging from the arch, swaying slightly in an imaginary breeze.</p>
<p><em>It has been so long since I have seen someone from Asgard, </em>a deep voice rumbled. Loki drew his daggers, whipping around to face whoever it came from. To his surprise, no one stood there. Empty space greeted him.</p>
<p>"Reveal yourself," he commanded, demanded. "I am Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard. You will reveal yourself to me now or face the consequences."</p>
<p><em>So arrogant, just like your father before you. Hmm, what to do with you? </em>The voice, had he been tangible, would have stroked his chin in contemplation. <em>So many things to try.</em></p>
<p>"You knew my father?" Loki couldn't keep the surprise from his voice. This voice, it was far older than he initially suspected. A being of immense power, no doubt about it.</p>
<p><em>I knew him very well, young one. </em>Loki bristled at the name. <em>He imprisoned me two thousand years before your birth, cursed me to an existence of torment and torture. I knew him very well, Odinson, and I loathe him to this very day. You would be a fool not to do the same.</em></p>
<p>"I don't care about that," Loki spat. "I care about getting Hermione out."</p>
<p><em>Of course, your little Granger. How well she is doing. I must commend her, she has far surpassed my expectations. But there are many tests for her yet, tests she very well may not pass. </em>The voice chuckled. <em>Oh, what am I saying? You want the chance to rescue her. Well, I'm nothing if not fair.</em></p>
<p>"I don't own her," he growled, daggers still clutched tight, knuckles turned white.</p>
<p>
  <em>Of course not, forgive me. Now, why don't you take your chance before I change my mind? I may be fair, but I change my mind as fast as the ocean. Go on, step into the light. I will not harm you.</em>
</p>
<p>Even though Loki knew he shouldn't trust a strange voice, a strange voice with a very clearly Asgardian history, the chance to pass through the portal and rescue Hermione was too good to pass up. Despite the fact he would have done it either way, to have this strange being's blessing gave him hope that he would reach Hermione.</p>
<p>Without any further fanfare, he sheathed his daggers and stepped into the shimmering light. A shiver ran down his spine, before blinding white overtook his vision.</p>
<p>I'm coming, Hermione, he thought. He wouldn't leave her behind, not his only true friend, the one who comforted him, who helped him, who trusted him fully.</p>
<p>The one who he loved more than anything in the Nine Realms.</p>
<hr/>
<p>An endless white void, cold as Jotunheim, greeted him. White for miles, nothing to see. An endless expanse, a crushing silence. A slight ticking coming from his left. Once again he shivered, already unnerved. He'd seen many strange things in his day, but this...this was horrifying. It wouldn't affect him, but to anyone with a weaker mind, it would be torture.</p>
<p>Thank Odin Hermione was strong.</p>
<p>He decided to follow the ticking, jogging slightly. It became louder and louder, with no discernable source. This wasn't right, everything was that slight bit off. Loki shuddered, continuing along his path, weapons ready to be drawn in a flash. Even to him this was simply wrong, twisted in a way he couldn't quite see.</p>
<p>Suddenly, his body began to feel incredibly light. The feeling was similar to when he resided within the Astral Plane. A glance down confirmed his suspicions. Instead of being solid, he was now translucent, glowing white. Nothing about him was in colour, and he would be if he tried to use any of his weapons they would phase through a person, leaving no damage behind.</p>
<p>"Hermione!" He called out, taking the change in stride. Being a spirit, a spectre, was no strange thing to him. "Hermione, are you there?" Nothing answered him except that infernal ticking noise, grating on his nerves, ricocheting in his ears. Neverending, forever present. "Hermione!"</p>
<p>He waved his hand, preparing a spell to increase the volume of his voice. Surely, if he made it loud enough, she would hear him. But as he performed the hand gesture, nothing happened. No fizzle, no spark, no swell of magic and release. Just...emptiness.</p>
<p>"What in Odin's name," he muttered, attempting the spell again. Nothing came of it. Nor the third, or the fourth. So this place, this portal to a void, was able to block out even the strongest of magic. Oh, this had Odin written all over it. His tendency to go overboard, his arrogance staining the very air Loki breathed. Odin was the only being powerful enough to execute such a plan, along with turning Loki into a spectre.</p>
<p><em>Remember your purpose, Asgardian, </em>the voice chided, interrupting his rapidly wandering thoughts. <em>You are here to rescue your friend, not harbour resentment for Odin Borson.</em></p>
<p>In answer, Loki called out for her again (and silently cursed himself. He was so close, and here he was thinking about Odin like it would bring Hermione back to him), wandering further towards the ticking. The hair on his hands rose, the air buzzing slightly. He must be getting closer. Whether it was Hermione remained a mystery, but anything was better than this endless white expanse.</p>
<p>It made his head pound, his eyes ache, his mind grow weary. Nothing and everything all at the same time, and yet he continued his journey. No longer would Hermione be trapped in here, nor would she suffer. He would sit by her side through her recovery, giving her everything she wanted, thanking Odin for every breath she took, every time she looked at him. This hellish place wouldn't swallow her whole, Limbo wouldn't be her destination.</p>
<p>No, he would get her out if it was the last thing he did.</p>
<p>Vigor renewed, he ploughed forward, now sprinting towards the ticking, the buzzing growing stronger. Goosebumps rose across his neck, his hands, the <em>tick-tick </em>growing louder with every step he took.</p>
<p>And there, a spec growing on the horizon. Wandering aimlessly, the apparent source of the ticking. Brown bushy hair, hunched posture, hands hanging by their side. If he got closer, he would surely see vacant glassy eyes, cracked lips and dry skin.</p>
<p>It was Hermione.</p>
<p>He broke out into a sprint, but as he did, she began to scream. A blood curdling noise that shot through him like a lance, piercing, shrill, <em>terrified. </em>A noise he had never heard and never wanted to hear again. The pain contained within it chilled him to the bone, and he saw red gushing across her skin, the ticking growing every louder. She called out for someone to help, begging, and then the voice answered her pleas:</p>
<p><em>You've waited long enough, </em>it said. <em>It is time for you to move on.</em></p>
<p>And though he lunged forward, limbs burning with the effort, hand stretched forward, crying out her name, she didn't hear him nor see him. She looked blissfully unaware as a golden light appeared out of nowhere and engulfed her whole, the smile on her face serene.</p>
<p>Calm.</p>
<p>Content.</p>
<p>
  <em>Gone.</em>
</p>
<p>The opposite of what Loki felt.</p>
<p>"Liar!" He screamed towards the sky, though there was only white. "You traitor! You never were going to five me the chance. This is all a cruel joke to you, is it not? Show yourself, lest you be branded a coward for the rest of your miserable existence."</p>
<p><em>You have so much to learn, young one, </em>the voice sighed. <em>I cannot show myself, for I am bound to this prison. It is up to your Granger whether she survives. That I cannot determine, nor can you. Hope shall be your companion, Odinson, and you shall thank me for letting you see her.</em> <em>Call it mercy, if you will.</em></p>
<p>"You call this a mercy?" Loki snarled. "This is not mercy, it is torture. Set her free―oh, do not dare to even try." The same golden light, warm and soothing against his skin, began surrounding him. His proper weight returned, the white world fading around him. He yelled out in anguish, giving everything he had to escape the light.</p>
<p>Yet nothing worked.</p>
<p>He wasn't strong enough, not even close.</p>
<p>A tear slipped from his eye as he found himself shot out of the portal, returned to the chamber. And as he sat there, on his knees, head bowed, he could only think one thought:</p>
<p>I was not enough.</p>
<p>The portal behind him hissed and spat one last time, falling silent. Without even a single glance, he knew it was shut, sealing Hermione inside. Gone. Not for long, though, he would find a way to get back inside and rescue her. This wasn't over, and wasn't going to be for a long while yet.</p>
<p>
  <em>Nothing.</em>
</p>
<p>Hermione would get out of there if it was the last thing he did.</p>
<p>He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't.</p>
<hr/>
<p>She came to on a rough, splintering surface. The unmistakable sound of crashing waves mingled with the flapping of fabric in strong winds tinged with the bitter smell of salt. Hermione peeled open her eyes, glancing around. The gentle rocking, squawking birds, wooden surface; she was on a wooden ship from centuries ago.</p>
<p>"What on Earth," she muttered, climbing to her feet. She stumbled, making her way towards the barrier on the edge of the ship. For as far as the eye could see, the glimmering ocean spread, deep blues and greens coming together to create something unmistakably beautiful. "Where am I?"</p>
<p>After the other levels, this one was incredibly calm. Almost serene. The soft sloshing of the water against the hull soothed her harried mind. The timber under her bare feet didn't send shivers racing up her spine as it usually did, instead grounding her. She breathed deep, revelling in the clear air. Despite having no crew, the ship continued perfectly straight, charting a course to an unknown destination.</p>
<p>Something about this was different. A sense of finality, of whether she would leave or move on. Somehow, she knew that this would be the deciding level. How she knew evaded her, always would. Perhaps instincts lost long ago, or maybe the strange enchantments of the prison taking pity on her.</p>
<p>It was almost nice, save for the fact she was still trapped.</p>
<p>God, how she missed real life. Before, consumed by emotions too strong to fight against, or apathetic to the point of feeling nothing at all, she hadn't allowed herself time to truly reminisce on her friends, her family, her home. Nothing prepared her for the bone-deep ache that took up residence in her body, slowing the beat of her heart and hitching her breath.</p>
<p>She missed them so much it hurt.</p>
<p>What she wouldn't give to return, to see their smiles, be held in their embrace. How she missed Harry's stupid jokes, Ron's cooking and comforting words, Loki's immature pranks and endless intelligence. The mundane elements of normal day to day life she used to scoff at now called to her.</p>
<p>What a fool she was, so arrogant and full of falsehoods.</p>
<p>Suddenly, the ship lurched, tossing her to the ground. Hermione yelped in surprise, grabbing onto a lone rope. For a few terrifying seconds, she flailed around in the air, churning ocean directly below her. It almost resembled a hungry maw, opening wide to swallow her whole. The ship crashed back down, sea spray splashing up. Any other day she would have appreciated it. But laying on the deck, heart beating a tattoo on the inside of her chest, the rope still clutched in her hands, all she could do was thank Merlin she still lived.</p>
<p>Then her heart stopped.</p>
<p>She scrambled back, eyes popping out of their sockets. Terror ripped through her at a sight she had never seen before and never wanted to see before.</p>
<p>Rising before her was a massive snakehead, at least twice the size of the ship, covered in gnarled scales. The darkest greys, the brightest blues, hard as armour and twice as strong. Yellowed teeth extended from its jaw, beady, deep-set eyes the colour of acid boring holes into her heart. Spines extended from the side of its head, a glowing blue webbing connecting them, and two curved horns, sleek and streamlined, stretched back towards the sky. Water rushed off it in torrents, crashing back down to the roiling ocean below.</p>
<p>But as she looked closer, she could see the decay, the decrepit state of the monstrous creature. Cracked and chipped scales, completely missing in some places, interlaced with deep scars telling tales of an eternity of torment. Missing teeth, heavy brows and foul breath, half-lidded eyes filled with no hope for what came next.</p>
<p>Hermione's mouth moved, no sound coming out. A sense of absolute dread befell her, limbs turned to lead, as she gazed upon the most terrifying creature she had ever seen. This was worse than all the other levels combined, the sheer heart-stopping terror, unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. Just the shadow from the monster covered the entire ship, and she didn't even want to imagine how long its twisting, snake-like body continued, deep into the bowels of the ocean.</p>
<p>And then it spoke.</p>
<p>"At last, you are here."</p>
<p>She began to shake. The voice, deep, velvet, rumbling, and so, so familiar. It had been speaking to her for so long, testing her, teasing her, bringing forward all the emotions she didn't want to feel. All this time it was this creature. All this time and she didn't even know that the Warden was this..this thing.</p>
<p>Terrifying.</p>
<p>Heart-stopping.</p>
<p>Magnificent.</p>
<p>"Hermione Granger, long have I been waiting for you." The voice, so loud and powerful this close up, rattled her bones. The power it held was incomparable to anything she'd ever felt. The mere thought of it shouting, releasing the full power, was incredibly unnerving. "I have watched your progress, and I must say I am impressed. One with an average mind could not endure what you have."</p>
<p>The giant head moved closer. She tried to form words. Nothing came out, fizzling out of existence on her tongue.</p>
<p>"I see you are having trouble forming words. I am not surprised. You are the first mortal to see me in three-thousand years." The great snake sighed. "If I were more in control of my abilities, I would change to a more comforting form. Alas, such acts evade me at this time."</p>
<p>Hermione gulped. "Who...who are you?" Barely more than a whisper, yet the serpent heard her. It laughed, guttural and deep, fixing its eyes on her once again.</p>
<p>"Ah, yes, I apologise. Despite your extensive research on Asgardian culture, my identity would evade you." It, <em>he</em>, rose up higher, forked tongue flicking out of his mouth. "I am Jormangundr, the World Serpent. I am sure you would have heard of me?"</p>
<p>The answer was so obvious she could have slapped herself. Of course, it was Jormangundr. Who else could a giant water serpent be, who else had the power to pull something like this off?</p>
<p>Jormungandr drew closer, as if sensing her thoughts. "No, little one, I am not the reason for your torment. If you are looking for someone to place blame upon, look to Odin Borson. Three thousand years ago, he imprisoned me in here, sentencing me to an existence of watching others suffer." Thick resentment filled his tone. "Along with the help of Midgardian druids, he found a way to confine me here. He struck a deal."</p>
<p>Hermione flinched back as he moved closer. His eyes narrowed.</p>
<p>"I will not harm you. You have already been through enough. I am here to supply your reprieve, offer you an exit from this place. I only ask that you let me tell my story, and listen intently to what I have to say." If a snake could slump, that is what he would have been doing.</p>
<p>"Listen...to your story?" How could he ask her to sit down and listen, after everything he put her through? Though he may blame Odin, he was in control of this Hell. He was the reason she was in here, and he expected her to sit back and listen to what he had to say? Jormungandr may be thousands of years old, immensely powerful and intelligent, but she wasn't going to sit back and take his bullshit.</p>
<p>"Indeed, my child. I have many things to say and nary an hour to say them."</p>
<p>"You think I'm just going to sit back and listen to you, after everything I've put you through?" Agency returned to her body as she leapt up from the ground, marching towards Jormungandr. This close up she could see the almost invisible scratches on each scale. Fear left her, anger rearing its ugly head. "You think I'm going to sit here and accept this? I deserved none of this!"</p>
<p>"No, you did not deserve it, and I greatly regret what I have done." He spoke, warm breath washing over her. "There are forces at work beyond your understanding, Hermione Granger, and I beseech you to listen. If you do, everything will become clear. As I said before, you will not thank you, though you will eventually come to understand."</p>
<p>"Understand what, exactly? The reasons for my imprisonment? The reason for endless amounts of torture? Why I had to watch my friends die, why I had to watch people crumble in my hands?"</p>
<p>Red hatred tinged her venomous words. But, no. This wasn't red. It was black, dark and foreboding, vicious and quick, leaving no mercy for anyone who opposed it; opposed her. This wasn't who she was, and yet all the pent up emotions from the past levels, anger, hatred, apathy, anguish, they all piled together, creating a deadly cocktail ready to strike at anything that moved.</p>
<p>"You think me a mere child, who will listen to everything you have to say. I have been through Hell, I've seen people die! You can't act like this is okay, that it will have a payoff. Nothing will be worth it. I won't come out the other side thanking you for what you give me." Jormungandr remained silent. "I won't ever thank you, nor will I understand. I don't deserve this! No one does!"</p>
<p>"Yes, I knew that from the start," he said. "Yet the circumstances called for what must be done."</p>
<p>"Why?" she asked, lips trembling. "Why put me through this? There is no good reason for it, don't you get it?" The anger remained, yet agony crept in, curling its talons around her throat, her heart, her mind, and squeezing tight. It wasn't fair.</p>
<p>"If you would only listen, then I would explain, child. Your anger is justified, and I understand."</p>
<p>"What could you say to make me see this any differently. You have put me through literal hell!" Her fists flexed, into a fist and then out. Jormungandr was a piece of shit.</p>
<p>"What you went through is only a fraction of the horrors contained within this place. Thanks to me you only experienced the lightest possible amount, and took the shortest path here," he growled, voice growing darker. "If I desired so, you could be torn apart, again and again, forced to eat your own flesh, or trapped in such a state that you would wish for death yet it would never come. You speak of things you do not know and brand yourself a fool in the process."</p>
<p>"I don't care if it was the lightest amount!" Hermione cried. "It still hurt me!"</p>
<p>"I do not deny it did, nor do I think what happened is worth nothing. But if you did not come in here, thousands of innocent people would die. I am dying, and this realm feeds off my magic." He shot forward, now mere inches from Hermione's face. "When there is nothing left to feed off, it shuts down, destroying itself. Everything spills outwards, decimating anything in its path. Your kind's poor attempts at containing the forces of this realm will be nothing but an ant in a hurricane."</p>
<p>Hermione fell into horrified silence. Jormungandr continued his tirade. "Vile as I am, the years I have spent within here have tempered me. I will not let thousands of people die when one person could stop such depravity. I chose to bring you here."</p>
<p>"Why me?" she whispered, barely able to keep her mind straight.</p>
<p>"A matter of convenience. You were investigating what you call a portal. I merely took the opportunity to take you in, to see if you would be the one to save thousands. I was correct in my assumptions, but do not for a minute think you are special. Many others could be standing in your place, young one. Many have failed before you made the journey to this moment"</p>
<p>She staggered backwards, the reality of what Jormungandr said washing over her. So this wasn't an elaborate plot to punish her, nor was it a terrible accident of circumstance. Well, circumstance certainly played a part in it. If only she hadn't been at the job, in the chamber, lost in her obsession, her resentment for Ron (whose actions were so blatantly in the right it hurt). If only she were in another place, another time.</p>
<p>If only her ambitions didn't blind her.</p>
<p>The past called to her, tempted her with a temptress's whispers, reaching out its hands towards her. Time, a thing of such a vast amount here, swirled around her. Yet it was something she could never reach. Never would reach. No matter how long she longed, how much she yearned, she wasn't a fool. Going back to change things was impossible.</p>
<p>The dreams of a better yesterday would always rage strong, never humbled by reality nor hope for a better future.</p>
<p>"What will happen if this realm destroys itself?"</p>
<p>"As I said before, it will explode outwards, destroying anything that stands in its path. Such large forces are not meant to reside on Midgard, yet Odin decided to place it here, for he knew this would happen. Such casual disregard for Midgardian life he holds, and I am certain it carries on to this day. You would know, having been to Asgard." He shook his head. "Such conversations are for when we have time, and that luxury does not extend to us. The cost of failure will be catastrophic."</p>
<p>"How many?"</p>
<p>"Thousands."</p>
<p>"How. Many," she growled out. "Tell me the truth. Don't skirt around me with half-truths."</p>
<p>"Well met, young one." Jormangundr sighed. "Hundreds of thousands, if not millions. So many people are currently imprisoned here. So many innocents. Their energy will combine with mine, creating something that has never been seen before. The scale of it is unimaginable, even to myself."</p>
<p>Above them, the sky began to fade away to bright white, golden cracks branching through it. Like a pottery repair job from Japan she saw when she was just a little girl. The sea beneath the ship began frothing. She locked her knees to keep her balance.</p>
<p>Jormangundr glanced up, an expression of fear overcoming his face. "There is no time, Hermione Granger, you must do as I say lest you want disaster to become your precious world. There is no time to explain, nor go over specifics. I will die, but you will carry on my legacy and the essential forces of this realm within yourself."</p>
<p>"I'm sorry?" What he was suggesting sounded absolutely ludicrous.</p>
<p>"You will take the essential forces of this realm into yourself, to save the wider world, and the people in here, from a hellish existence. It will not have any adverse effects on you. You will barely notice anything after the transfer has happened." He gave a long-suffering sigh. "I will not be taking no for an answer, as I will not allow that many people to die when I can do something about it."</p>
<p>"You never thought to ask whether I would like to take on this burden?" Hermione exclaimed, despite the creeping realisation that resisting was futile. Compared to Jormungandr, she was but a snowflake in a blizzard, so insignificant she may as well not exist.</p>
<p>"As I said, you do not have a choice in this matter. Now, place your hand upon my head and it shall be done." She didn't move. "Now, child, before it is too late. Or would you have those you care about die because you did nothing to prevent it?" Oh, he was playing a dangerous game. Hermione knew there was no point in resisting, knew he was right.</p>
<p>Time was fast depleting, and here she was contemplating whether she would let thousands, millions, die for her own selfish sake. She knew Jormungandr was hiding the whole truth about the effects of containing it; you didn't spend all that time around Loki without picking up a few tricks yourself. Deep in her mind, she knew it was the right thing to do, even though the rest of her screamed to be selfish, to put herself first.</p>
<p>That wasn't who she was.</p>
<p>She never turned down a chance to help someone. And if it meant putting herself through torture one more time, she was okay with that. If it meant hurting, screaming, being torn apart and put back together, then so be it. Innocents wouldn't suffer. Not just those outside, but those inside this realm as well, those who weren't meant to be here. Wanderers, warriors, the lost and forgotten. The living, the healthy, those who thrived and knew nothing of the horrors of ancient sorcery, those who thought blood magic was the worst thing out there.</p>
<p>She wouldn't let them suffer.</p>
<p>Her hand moved forward to Jormungandr's nose. It barely covered a quarter of a single scale. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Do it. Do it now before I lose my nerve."</p>
<p>"And so I shall," Jormangundr, World Serpent, rumbled. The skin between his scales glowed an iridescent blue, almost blinding. Hermione kept her eyes open, very aware of the rapidly approaching storm, keeping her balance. "Let my thanks to you be known, Hermione Granger. My time here changed me, and I hope it does the same for you."</p>
<p>"Gee thanks," she snapped. "Get onto it, I don't want to be here any longer than I have to."</p>
<p>There was nothing.</p>
<p>Then she screamed. What felt like electricity lanced through her veins, lit her skin up an electric blue. Her eyes rolled back in her head, body locked in place from the shock and tears streamed down her cheeks.</p>
<p>Everything that had ever been, everything that ever was, everything that ever would be. She could see it all. The good and ugly, the angelic and evil. Everything. <em>Everything. </em>It was overpowering, too much, and all she could do was stand and fight against it. This was worse than anything in the other levels, and though she knew she chose to do this, it hurt in more ways than one.</p>
<p>Sweet torment, delicious torture.</p>
<p>Only the knowledge of what she was preventing carried her through it. Not Jormungandr's false words of comfort, nor the images of her previous life flashing in her mind's eye. The pain carried through, the only constant in a world of uncertainty, yet she knew what she was doing was right.</p>
<p>And then it was over.</p>
<p>She panted, removing her hand from Jormungandr. Electricity faded from her system, leaving slight twinges behind. That was...incredible. Terrible, but magnificent. Nothing she had ever experienced came close to it, and nothing ever would.</p>
<p>Before her, Jormangundr began fading, blue switching to grey. His frills drooped, horns beginning to crumble to dust. "You are truly worthy of what is left of my power, young one. Not many could take on this burden and survive." His voice wavered, growing weak. She could see it now. He was dying, taking no one along with him except those inside this realm longing for the sweet release of death. "Go on, live a wonderful life."</p>
<p>"I will do my best," she said, voice thick with emotion. Even though she hated him, loathed him, she gave him her promise. "You enjoy the afterlife."</p>
<p>"There is nothing good waiting for me, I am afraid." He gave her one last smile. "Thank you, Hermione Granger, you have my eternal gratitude."</p>
<p>And just like that, Jormungandr crashed into the ocean. Grey and lifeless, eyes closed. He sheared through the ship, splitting it in two. The centre mast careened towards her and as suddenly as she appeared on the ship, she was gone.</p>
<p>Returned to the white void, that endless plain, body electrified. It began shaking violently around her, and she barely had time to steady herself before a great golden chasm opened beneath her feet. It swallowed her whole. She didn't scream, too tired to even speak, to think. She shut her eyes, welcoming the exit she knew was coming.</p>
<p>Tomorrow, she would think of the insane events that occurred, everything that she sacrificed, that which she gained. Tomorrow, when she was returned, when Loki held her tight along with Harry and Ron, when life would begin the slow return to normal. The thought of it terrified her, but she could handle it. After everything she had been through, everything she endured, the recovery would be another piece of the puzzle.</p>
<p>This time, instead of burning, that purple light caressed her, soothing upon her skin. A relief, one she would come to savour. The next few years, the rest of her life, would be a long road to recovery. The exit was near, she could feel it. Felt it, yearned for it, dreamed of it. Wanted nothing more than escape.</p>
<p>She fell further, allowing the warm light to engulf her, feeling strangely calm. No excitement, no anger, only acceptance. She fell and exited the realm now known as 'The Prison' forever.</p>
<p>
  <em>Why me?</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>Eight years after the disappearance of Hermione Granger, witches and wizards around England raised glasses in her name and chanted, "To Hermione Granger, may her memory live on."</p>
<p>Eight years after the disappearance of Hermione Granger, Harry Potter carried on with his teaching, avoiding the shadow that looked like her that chased him, whispering his failings in his ears, burning himself in work to avoid the memories of her smile.</p>
<p>Eight years after the disappearance of Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley didn't step back in their house, didn't let anyone besmirch her name and didn't dare try to live up to her memory, trying in vain to carry on hope she would still reappear.</p>
<p>Eight years after the disappearance of Hermione Granger, Loki Odinson became a shell of himself, sinking into obsession, desperate to find her, yet slowly coming to terms with the fact that she might never return and he might have to continue living with his failure, carry on life with only the sweetest memories of their time together.</p>
<p>Eight years after, Hermione Granger woke up with a gasp in the decimated portal chamber, runic tattoo on the back of her hand and a snake swirling around her torso, hands quaking.</p>
<p>Eight years after Hermione Granger disappeared, Loki Odinson wept.</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Trigger Warnings:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>- Memory loss/temporary amnesia<br/>- Self-doubt/suicidal thought<br/>- Torture: mental and physical<br/>- Semi-graphic depictions of violence</p>
<p>+++</p>
<p>Holy moly, I finally got this one out. It took me forever, but I am in love with the result. 10k words over what I estimated, which is why I am setting myself a maximum of 25k words for future chapters. Anyway, I hope that you enjoy, and I promise that the next chapter will be filled with recovery and fluff. Aaaand, a little clue, the end of the next chapter takes place in 2012.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Until next time, dear readers,<br/>Mariadoria</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger Warnings included at the bottom, if you need them :D</p>
<p>I also started a Discord server, if you're interested in joining that! Here's the link: <a href="https://discord.gg/uf6YFgdmgr">Mariadoria's Den</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><hr/>
<p>Real-life.</p>
<p>What a strange dream.</p>
<p>A place where time didn't swirl around her in a twisted vortex, where everything was vaguely straightforward. Where things made sense. No torture, no ancient beings imbuing their power within you.</p>
<p>Hermione dreamed of returning to real life. Of being with her family, her friends. To hear her parents voices again, feel their soft embrace. The mere thought brought a quiver to her lips. When would all this be over? She didn't know, but when it was, she would make the most of every second. No more wasting away. Life was precious, to be treasured.</p>
<p>She shivered as a chill breeze kissed her skin. Goosebumps rose all over, hair standing at attention. Hermione curled in closer. Just a minute longer, lost in longing thoughts, before she faced whatever came next. The rough ground beneath her could wait. Something was etched into it. At this point, she wouldn't be surprised if it was a poem, an ode to how she was going to find death within these walls. Nothing surprised her anymore.</p>
<p>Jormungandr...what a crazy day. Any other time she would have written him off as an extremely complex hallucination, possibly caused by stress or some other similar cause. Now, though? With knowledge of Asgardians, she had to admit to herself that it was all too real. But if Jormungandr was real, did that mean…</p>
<p>Hermione cracked her eyes open. Bright, bright light streamed in. She slammed them shut again, slowly acclimating herself to the light. Nothing could be easy, could it? There had to be an element of challenge to everything she did.</p>
<p>Cursing under her breath, Hermione hauled herself to her feet. Trepidation at what she would see once her eyes adjusted whizzed through her veins. Would it be a barren rocky plain with flames bursting from every surface, reminiscent of tales of Muspelheim? Or (she found herself hoping beyond hope, so hard her heart began to ache), would it be the familiar sight of the Portal Chamber? The deadly sight of the portal chamber that sent dread careening through her. Perhaps Jormungandr spoke the truth and truly wanted the best for her despite his vile actions.</p>
<p>"No, can't think like that," she said. Her voice staved off the silence. Oh, the silence. How it rushed forward, pressing down on her, infiltrating every part of her being. She shuddered, speaking once again to ward it off. It wasn't like there was anyone around her to hear. After so long interred within the prison, it comforted her. "Alright, Hermione, you can do this."</p>
<p>And do it she did.</p>
<p>She opened her eyes, dread and anticipation mingling together into a cocktail of contradiction.</p>
<p>"Oh my God," she choked out, hands clasped over her mouth. This couldn't be real.</p>
<p>But it was.</p>
<p>She stood in a ruined portal chamber, even more so than before. The wardstones were destroyed, great piles of rubble sitting around the edges of the room. No longer did the air hum with an air of power, heavy and oppressing. Instead, it felt impossibly light. She could breathe in the sharp air and revel in how clear it was. And in the centre...oh how that sight warmed her heart.</p>
<p>In place of the portal to the prison, there was nothing more than a pile of crumbled, shattered rock. No more, nothing more.</p>
<p>It was over. This time for real. Something deep within her, something new, confirmed her suspicions. She fell to her knees, unable to do anything but look to the sky. No tears streamed down her cheeks, no noise escaped her. Relief inundated her, and soon she found herself murmuring under her breath all that she would do once she finally escaped the chamber.</p>
<p>"I'll visit Harry and Ron, and my parents. I'll go back to work, everything will go back to normal. I will see Loki," a fond smile crept over her lips, the kind not seen for so long, "and we can discuss magical theory. I'll live until I'm old and grey. Things will be good." A sudden thought struck her. "I don't have to escape."</p>
<p>No elaborate puzzle, no forced lesson about herself, stood in the way. She could simply walk out, return to life. It was so simple.</p>
<p>It was so right.</p>
<p>She picked herself up, striding towards the exit. Her wand wasn't on the floor, though it didn't surprise her. It had been a few months since she disappeared, so someone would have picked it up. It was only a matter of finding out who had it. Nice and easy. So easy in comparison to the trials she faced in The Prison.</p>
<p>(you deserved it)</p>
<p>The door was strangely blown off its hinges, though it may have been a side effect of the portal collapsing as she came out. It wouldn't surprise her. Humming under her breath, she continued through the twisting hallways, laughing at the swaying corridor and waving to the portraits upon the wall. They all did a double-take as she skipped past, whispering under their breath. She supposed if she had been gone for so long, it would be a shock to see her sauntering through the halls, smiling as if it was her birthday.</p>
<p>As far as she was concerned it may as well be.</p>
<p>These familiar halls, memories imbued into the very walls, would never see her again. The thought lightened her heart even further. There were other things to research, other things clamouring to be deciphered. Things that weren't ancient and incredibly powerful, yet still held enough mystery to satisfy her. There were still ways to work around her passion without being confronted by torturous memories.</p>
<p>(they'll never go away)</p>
<p>Helena was nowhere to be seen in the front office. Huh, that was unusual. Helena was prone to staying extremely late and coming in far too early, even by Hermione's standards. Then again, if it were midnight, Helena would be at home, snoring in her bed. Hermione snickered at the memory of her boss passed out on the couch, snoring louder than her cousin's V8 engine. She would miss Helena.</p>
<p>The Ministry of Magic had a very distinct smell. As soon as she stepped out of the entrance to her old department, it hit her like a shockwave. Fresh parchment, a slight odour of owls, and that extremely familiar sharp edge of magic. It was far more pronounced than before. She staggered slightly, holding onto the wall. Her shirt, a bright white, tightened uncomfortably around her shoulders.</p>
<p>She winced at the colour. Too bright, too white. And it fit her perfectly last time, so why wouldn't it now? Perhaps she somehow grew in the months she was missing? Oh well. Trivial mysteries for another time.</p>
<p>Winding corridors, paper aeroplanes zipping happily through the air, the bustling crowds. Oh, how she missed this. She wasn't alone, not anymore. Everything was real, tangible, not going to slip through her fingers with a single touch. Nothing compared to the jubilation she felt.</p>
<p>She was finally free.</p>
<p>(you'll never be free)</p>
<p>Every person she passed did a double-take, eyes widening and jaws dropping. She waved cheerily at them, giving a toothy grin. Whispers broke out in the crowd, not a single person waving back. Hermione didn't care. She was back. That was all that mattered. The here and now, the present. So what if people gawked at her like a particularly interesting exhibit at a museum? Nothing could bring her down, not right now. She was light as a feather and twice as happy. If gravity wasn't a part of the equation, she would surely float merrily above the ground, bouncing around and happily murmuring to herself.</p>
<p>This was better than anything that ever came before.</p>
<p>Soon, she reached the main lobby of the Ministry. That garish statue, the one she so hated, still stood tall in the centre. Water spurted out of the tip of her wand, a golden smile covering her face, Harry and Ron the same. In a few years, it would be removed. She would see to it personally. The sheer amount of embarrassment it caused was reason enough. Not that she wasn't proud of her achievements, but did she really need a statue?</p>
<p>She grinned even further.</p>
<p>How she missed normal annoyance, when her life wasn't at stake. Normal, petty annoyances where she didn't have to worry about death knocking at her doorstep. Sure, the people milling around her wouldn't understand. She did, though. She understood all too well.</p>
<p>She practically skipped over to the Floo Station, hopping into an empty one. With a fistful of Floo powder grasped tight in her hand, she shouted out her address and let the emerald flames engulf her.</p><hr/>
<p>Hermione Granger stumbled out of the fireplace, face planting straight onto the hearth rug. Coughing and spluttering, she hauled herself to her feet, wiping the ash off her clothes and face. Okay, so she was a bit out of practice. Coordination wasn't her friend right now. She could deal with that. A few trips and she would be right back on her feet.</p>
<p>The rug beneath her now sported a rather impressive coat of ash. "Bollocks," she groaned, vowing to find her wand as soon as possible. Ash on the hearth rug was one of her many pet peeves. A simple <em>scourgify </em>charm and it would all be fixed up. If she couldn't find her wand, there was also the option of the vacuum cleaner sitting in the cupboard under the stairs. Seldom used, but its presence was oddly comforting.</p>
<p>Still wiping the ash off her now grey shirt, she glanced around the living room. "Ron?" she called out. Surely he would be here. It had been months, after all. The more she looked around, the more this theory crumbled.</p>
<p>A thick layer of dust clung to everything. The couches, the coffee table, even the fruit bowl on the kitchen table. It held no fruit, though. As she walked through the house, she began to notice that things weren't the same. It was as if it had been deserted for years. A ghost house, given to the throes of time. No food sat in the pantry, all the utensils had been cleared out.</p>
<p>Yet the photos remained tacked to the walls, all the way up the stairwell. The carpet compressed under her feet, little clouds of grey kicked up with every step she took. She gulped, a sense of foreboding falling over her. This wasn't right.</p>
<p>"Ron?" she called out again, opening the door to their bedroom. The bed still sat against the wall, headboard in the same place. Everything looked the same, but as she looked through the draws, all of Ron's clothes had been removed. Hers remained. She gasped.</p>
<p>That was the pattern.</p>
<p>Everything belonging to her still sat in the house. Her books, her clothes, her photos. Even her little notes she left on the walls. Her diary sat proudly on the bedside table. Yet everything of Ron's was gone as if he had never lived here. The only sign of him was the photos in the stairwell, depicting them on dates, with friends, with family. Everything was just...gone.</p>
<p>Just how long had it been?</p>
<p>This wasn't a few months of dust. No, this much could only build up from years of disuse, years of abandonment. No one had been here for years, and it showed. It was so obvious, so, so obvious. Hermoine was a fool to have missed it, caught up in delusions of returning to a normal life.</p>
<p>How could life be normal now, after all she had been through?</p>
<p>Her breaths came short and fast, and she found herself clinging to the doorknob with a white-knuckled grip. The door swivelled around and she fell to the floor. Her heart beat a tattoo on the inside of her chest. This couldn't be, she had only been gone for three months at the most. She did the maths, and the numbers didn't lie. This wasn't right, none of this was right. This must be another level of the Prison. It filled her with despair, but it was the truth.</p>
<p>
  <em>It had to be</em>
</p>
<p>"Ron!" she cried out, unable to form anything more than his name. Only silence answered her, that same crushing silence. She hated that silence, hated the bright white, hated anything to do with that portal. All she wanted was to return to normal life, where she joked with Loki and cooked with Ron and visited her parents every second weekend. "Please!"</p>
<p>Still no answer.</p>
<p>How long had it been?</p>
<p>She scrambled upwards, staggering over to the top draw of the bedside table. Her wand. If this was real, her wand would be sitting in her holster. Everything belonging to her remained, and that included her wand. Her teeth began to tingle, tongue dried out, as her breaths came hard and fast. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe, oh God let it stop, this was torture.</p>
<p>She violently yanked open the top draw. The contents rattled about, but she only cared about one thing. Relief flooded her as she grabbed at her holster, pulling her wand out and clutching it tightly. Sparks exploded out of the tip, blue and green and red, shooting around the room. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she choked in disbelief.</p>
<p>She was back.</p>
<p>It was real.</p>
<p>But the torture wasn't over. Would it ever be?</p>
<p>With her wand held tight, a wave of calm washed over her. She forced herself to take deep breaths, focusing them on her stomach.</p>
<p>
  <span>In.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Out.</span>
</p>
<p>The panic held at bay.</p>
<p>
  <span>In.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Out.</span>
</p>
<p>The panic staved away.</p>
<p>She opened her eyes, wiping the tears away. Once again, her shirt pulled tight on her arms. She groaned, barely feeling strong enough to look at herself. The curiosity overtook her, though, and she slowly traipsed to the bathroom, leaning against the wall. Underneath her, her legs quivered with every movement, aftershocks to an earthquake. The paint, slightly rough under her fingertips, brought forward a weak smile.</p>
<p>She and Ron painted these walls together, so long ago. She didn't know how long ago it was. Soon, she would find out. Soon, she would cast the spell. Dread sat deep in her gut, threatening to rise if she even so much as thought about time itself. Something was deeply wrong, but she could wait another few minutes.</p>
<p>This was real.</p>
<p>She was in control now.</p>
<p>(will you ever be in control?)</p>
<p>She stumbled into the bathroom, gripping onto the vanity. The mirror in front of her also had a thick coating of dust. She cast a quick cleaning spell, watching as it evaporated into nothing. The mirror in front of her cleared, and for the first time in a long, long time, she gazed upon herself.</p>
<p>She didn't like what she saw.</p>
<p>Deep blue bags, deep as the sea Jormungandr resided in, clung to the underside of her eyes. Jagged red lines shot through her sclera, her eyes half-lidded. Tired. Exhaustion wracked her frame, limbs thin as twigs, skin pale as paper. Almost translucent. Yet her shirt kept tightening uncomfortably. It was almost as if she had grown, yet shrunk. Now that she thought about it, the vanity did seem farther down, her wand smaller.</p>
<p>What happened to her?</p>
<p>Something to do with Jormungandr and the power he imbued within her. It must have made her stronger. The time within the Prison did a number on her, though. A strange concoction of events. In truth, she wanted to experiment with what happened to her, find the limits of whatever new abilities she had.</p>
<p>But she was so, so tired.</p>
<p>The joy from earlier slithered away, leaving only bone-weary exhaustion. Every limb weighed a ton, and her eyes began closing of their own accord. She yawned, grabbing her wand and traipsing to bed. There was so much to look into, so many people to see.</p>
<p>How long had it been since she slept?</p>
<p>Lay down in a bed and let the comforting abyss swallow her whole, if even for a night? Even the thought of it was alluring, tendrils dragging her towards her room</p>
<p>She didn't let herself glance at the still-open bedside table, and made sure to keep her wand clutched tight to her chest. As she stripped off and lay down, she couldn't help the regret. If only she was reasonable to Ron, then she wouldn't have to go through this alone. She disappeared with venom on her tongue, too proud and arrogant to admit to her own faults.</p>
<p>However long it had been, she would apologise.</p>
<p>But first, she would lay down to sleep and let darkness claim her.</p>
<p>Leave the dread, the hard decisions, the discovery of how much time passed to the morning. Right now, she was going to sleep. She deserved it.</p>
<p>As soon as her head hit the pillow she passed out. No dreams ran through her head, only aching loneliness deep in her soul.</p><hr/>
<p>The next morning found Hermione sitting at the dining table. Her wand lay on the surface before her, the beginning of a 'Tempus' spell ready on her tongue, raring to be let go. Something stopped her through. A block stopped her from talking. The calendar hanging on the wall, from April 2000, taunted her. How outdated was it? Or was it only a matter of flipping the pages to September?</p>
<p>She took a deep breath, raising a shaking hand towards the wand. With it in her hand, she closed her eyes and waved the pattern.</p>
<p><span>"</span><em><span>Tempus,</span></em>" she whispered. The spell burst from the end of her wand, a white glow making her eyelids glow. She winced again. The white would have to go. A watch would do. Or a wall clock. This spell was a no go. But it was already cast, so she may as well crack her eyes open and look.</p>
<p>When he did, her heart dropped and a whimper escaped her. Immediately, she cancelled the spell and cast it again. Something must be wrong with it. This couldn't be right.</p>
<p><span>"</span><em>Tempus." </em>The same result. <span>"</span><em>Tempus!" </em>Once again, the same. <span>"</span><em>Tempus!" </em>Desperation crept into her voice and she couldn't help that she cast it five more times, voice increasing in volume with each spell. It couldn't be right, it just couldn't. This wasn't possible. It had only been a few months.</p>
<p>Yet it had been far longer.</p>
<p>The date of <em>July 17th, 2008, 8:43 am </em>stared back at her. Harsh and unforgiving, too bright, too white. She cancelled the spell, watching as it fizzled out. Gone, just like the years.</p>
<p>Eight years.</p>
<p>How had it been eight years?</p><hr/>
<p>Daniel Granger staggered through the door. Today was a bad day. Sometimes he could stop the grief, keep it at bay until he could weep with Emma in the living room, curled into her side. Other days it crashed onto him all at once, terrible and hungry, gnawing at his composure. On those days, he couldn't move, couldn't sleep, couldn't eat.</p>
<p>Couldn't think at all, not without his little girl's laughter ricocheting around his head, her long lectures ringing in his ears, her mischievous smile burned onto the back of his eyelids. He never knew he could miss the smell of her hair when she hugged him or the way her pencil rapidly scratched across paper.</p>
<p>But he did.</p>
<p>And he wanted her back.</p>
<p>It ached deep down within him. Some primal part of him howled out for his daughter, yet there was never any answer. Only the pity of others and the comfort of his wife. Nothing ever helped. Not the hollow reassurances of the police, nor the brusque manner of the Aurors when they said, "We will find her, she's a war hero after all." Nothing worked.</p>
<p>And today was a bad day.</p>
<p>A really, really bad day.</p>
<p>He collapsed onto the ground, not even noticing the spike of pain that shot through his knees. Hermione Granger was missing, he knew that. Eight years later, it was impossible not to know that. In those years, Daniel Granger had gone missing too. Where he was one a jovial dentist who loved joking around and going down to the pub with his mates, now he only did the bare minimum. The thought of turning to drink to quench his misery was tempting, but Emma always stopped him from falling down the hole his father did. He was a husk, barely functioning, yet the search for Hermione kept him going.</p>
<p>Realistically, he knew that the chances of finding her were next to nothing. After eight years there wasn't a trace of her to be found. No surveillance footage, no fingerprints. Nothing in the 'Muggle' world. Even in the magical realms of England, the story was the same. No tracking charms worked, there was no trace of her. Witness accounts didn't reveal anything new, and her boss, the only person who could offer any more insight, was mysteriously dead.</p>
<p>All he wanted was to hold his little girl again. Then he would be happy. The thought of being happy without her stung.</p>
<p>"Dan!" Emma's voice cut through the fog of misery. "Dan, baby, listen to me. It's okay. I'm here." She rubbed comforting circles on his back as he shook. "Shhh, it's okay. Everything is going to be okay." She cupped his cheeks. "Breathe deep with me, from the stomach. You know what to do."</p>
<p>He mirrored her breathing, not even realising how far he had been gone. It was so easy to sink into that hole, a single step would do it. Rising out was a whole other story. More and more he found himself like this. Collapsed on the ground, huddling his own body, barely able to think past the agony of Hermoine being gone. All he could see was her, hear was her, feel was that warm embrace he hadn't known would be their last. If he had, he would never have let go.</p>
<p>"No, Dan, don't go back. Breathe deep with me." A knock on the door sounded, jarring him out of his funk. "Ignore the door. They can wait, bloody nags." That drew a snort out of him. Emma always knew how to cheer him up, drag him back until he vaguely felt like himself. A mere shadow, but himself none the less.</p>
<p>The knocking continued, growing in intensity. He glared at the door. They never knew when to stop, did they? He wasn't going to buy a vacuum cleaner no matter how hard they tried. It was like a bloody plague or something. If Hermione were here, she could magic them away with a single flick of her wand.</p>
<p>But she wasn't here. So he had to do it the old fashioned way.</p>
<p>Giving Emma an exasperated eye roll and reassuring her he was fine to do this, he clambered to his. His knees twinged and he winced, knowing that there were going to be bruises there tomorrow. Still, the knocking continued.</p>
<p>Around halfway there, it stopped. He breathed a sigh of relief. Now he could go back to whatever it was he was supposed to be doing. After falling deep into the hole, memories filtered back in slowly, as if through a sieve.</p>
<p>Then, something happened. Something horrifying and wondrous. Something that shouldn't have been able to happen. Yet it did.</p>
<p>A key turned in the lock, the gears clicking and crunching as they turned.</p>
<p>That shouldn't be possible. The only other person who had a key to the door was―</p>
<p>"Hermoine!" he gasped out, sprinting towards the door and yanking it open. The person on the other side yelped, tumbling forward. They crashed to the ground, groaning in pain and surprise. Dan wiggled out from under them, trying to tamp down the hope blooming in his heart. It couldn't be her, not after eight years. Someone must have copied one of their keys and thought they could get in easily.</p>
<p>The woman on top of him groaned again, pulling herself back. "Dad, what on Earth?"</p>
<p>His heart stopped.</p>
<p>"Hermione?" Frozen, unable to move an inch. Gazing upon her as she moved her hair to reveal the face of his daughter. Pale, gaunt, but still the face of his daughter. Those warm brown eyes, slightly bowed lips, curved nose. The same bushy hair. The exact picture of how she looked eight years ago as if she hadn't aged a day. "EMMA!"</p>
<p>She didn't say another word, rooted to the spot just as he was. Like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. After eight years gone (this is a joke, she's never coming back, you know that) she very may well be feeling the same emotions as him. Shock, disbelief, the slightest bit of anger, and overwhelming amounts of love.</p>
<p>Emma charged into the hallway, ready to lash out. But she stopped cold at the sight of Hermoine standing in the doorway, looking lost as a faun, eyes wide and hands trembling. He saw it, now. The way she shook, the way her eyes darted around. How she was ready to bolt the instant something went wrong. Legs locked, surveying everything around her. Wand held in a holster beneath her sleeve, primed to be set free.</p>
<p>The picture of a survivor.</p>
<p>What happened to her?</p>
<p>Emma gasped out a sob, rushing forward and crushing Hermoine in a hug. She began wailing out her name, rocking back and forth. "Hermione, you're back. Oh, you're back! Hermione, you're back!" On and on and on, never letting go. Hermione slowly closed her arms around Emma, wary and worried. Silent tears streamed down his daughter's face, her eyes never leaving him.</p>
<p>Yet Dan couldn't uproot himself. Couldn't bring himself to walk those few steps forward and join the embrace he had longed for for years. She was back, she was here, in their house. Everything he dreamed of for years on end. Now she stood in front of him and he couldn't even begin to believe it. How?</p>
<p>"Where were you?" Emma whispered, pulling back, hands all over Hermione like she couldn't believe she was real. "Where have you been all these years? Oh, sweetie, we've missed you."</p>
<p>"I...I…can't." Words failed Hermoine, her voice a breathy whisper. Barely audible. "Just...please." Her eyes shut, flickering about, a film only she could see playing out.</p>
<p>"Shhhh, baby, it's okay. You don't have to talk. I'm just so happy you're here. That's all that matters now." She grabbed Hermione's hand. "Why don't you come and sit down? You don't have to talk but you look ready to keel over. Come, sit down on the couch."</p>
<p>"I...Dad," she choked out, reaching a hand towards him. He grasped it tight, and that was all the reassurance he needed.</p>
<p>His little girl (not so little anymore) was back. She was here, holding his hand, tangible, real. He could touch her, feel her, gaze upon her face. It was so much more beautiful than the photos he looked at every day, in fear of forgetting her face. She was here, Oh Lord, she was here.</p>
<p>"Hermione," he choked out, pulling her into a hug. It was gentle, cautious, as if both of them were unsure of what to do. Whereas Emma's was all desperation, Dan's was relief and joy, featherlight touches. Her heart beat against his chest, and he couldn't stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks. She was taller than he remembered, no longer needing to turn her head sideways into his chest. Instead, she perched her chin on his shoulder, head bowed down, body wracked with silent sobs.</p>
<p>Words failed him, yet he found they weren't needed.</p>
<p>Hermoine was back, here in his arms, and he was whole again.</p><hr/>
<p>Hermione stayed with her parents for a week. She found herself unable to even walk out the door, instead staying inside the familiar house. Everything in here was right. Her mother's tea, her father's ramblings, the many tear-filled moments that followed their reunion. They never seemed to stop. An ocean lived behind her eyes, constantly leaking. Not that she minded. Everything here was real. If that meant crying every time she looked at her family, then so be it.</p>
<p>It was a small price to pay for reality.</p>
<p>It was the best week of her life.</p>
<p>All too soon, the week drew to an end. She knew it was time to move on, notify Harry and Ron of her return. Finding them would prove to be the first challenge. She had no way to contact them that didn't involve being awfully impersonal. A letter would likely be met with scepticism at best, fury at worst. Who knew how many letters they received over the years, claiming to be her? Scummy people existed, and they would go to fathomless depths to take advantage of the 'War Heroes.'</p>
<p>And so, with a teary goodbye and a promise to be back in a few days, she departed for her home. No longer did it feel right to say it belonged to Ron as well. He'd been gone for a long time, years and years. She was the only one who lived there now, the only one who thought living there would be a good idea. In those lonely halls, dreams and memories would haunt her. No doubt about it.</p>
<p>But it was a familiar place. <em>Home. </em>Maybe not now, but she would return it to its former glory. Fill it with new memories. The energy to find somewhere new evaded her. Even the mere thought filled her with exhaustion.</p>
<p>So, she would return to those dusty halls, those dusty rooms, and begin life anew. As if nothing bad ever happened (bad things happened, don't deny it). She was fine, and would be fine.</p>
<p>She was Hermoine Granger, she didn't falter in her steps. With every dawning day, she would continue moving forward, making haste, never letting the past catch up to her. It wouldn't drag her back into those dark pits, nor would it capture her.</p>
<p>"Hello," she said as she walked into her study, blowing the dust off the cover of a book. "How I've missed you. It's been too long." She drew her wand. "<em>Pulvis ictu!</em>" The dust sprang up wherever she pointed her wand, dancing merrily through the air until it fell into the garden. Soon, the study was clean and ready for her to begin her life anew.</p>
<p>No better place to do it, in her opinion.</p>
<p>With a slight smile, she delved into a very familiar volume of <em>Hogwarts: A History. </em>Terribly outdated by now, though the sheer nostalgia she gained from reading it was more than enough to satiate her desire for distraction knowledge.</p>
<p>And so, ensconced within a blanket, she slouched back into her overstuffed reading chair and devoured the book, page by page by page.</p>
<p>
  <em>Tick.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tock.</em>
</p>
<p>The tale of the Founders and the mischief they performed before their falling out brought forth a laugh, husky and hollow, but a laugh nonetheless. They reminded her of Fred and George, always up to no good but with endless amounts of love for each other and those surrounding them.</p>
<p>
  <em>Tick.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tock.</em>
</p>
<p>The shockwaves of the Statute of Secrecy being put into place made her grimace, the thought of what would have continued to happen if it hadn't been there sending a pang of anxiety through her heart. It was hundreds of years ago, what did it matter now? The Wizarding World was safe, the War was over. No one was getting burnt.</p>
<p>
  <em>Tick.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tock.</em>
</p>
<p>Grindelwald attacking the school came a few hundred pages later, and she could hear the screams emanating from the pages. How could one man be so cruel as to attack a school? Well, she knew the answer, had lived through it herself. Some of those screams were hers.</p>
<p>
  <em>Tick.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tock.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tick.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tock.</em>
</p>
<p>"<em>Bombarda!</em>" she cried, wand pointed at the clock fixed to the wall. In an instant, it shattered, glass tinkling to the floor. Wood creaked, plaster crackling, but the ticking stopped. She breathed hard, not even daring to look at the damage she caused. A large hole no doubt marred the wall.</p>
<p>She couldn't bring herself to care.</p>
<p>The silence was no better. It crushed the air, weighing down on her.</p>
<p>"It's alright, Hermione," she said. The relief was instant, the void filled. "All you have to do is go downstairs and start up the record player. The music will help. And when that's on, you can destroy all the clocks in the house." That thought brought her unprecedented amounts of joy.</p>
<p>She got up, wandering out of the study and down to the lounge, humming under her breath. Though the record player was incredibly out of date, it was a large step forward from the gramophone that McGonagall used at Hogwarts. Something more modern wouldn't go amiss, though. Now, what record to pick? Something familiar, comforting, free of painful memories.</p>
<p>"Ah, that's perfect," she said, after rifling through the collection. Both Muggle and Magical music resided in the box. Today, she was in the mood for something Muggle.</p>
<p>'<em>Well there you go again, you say you want your freedom…'</em></p>
<p>Then, with a conjured hammer, she went around the house and smashed every clock to bits, relishing the moment when the infernal ticking stopped. Glass littered her house, there were many dents in the walls, but she didn't care.</p>
<p>"Fuck you, Jormungandr," she growled, bringing the hammer down for one final swing. "Fuck you and your stupid games." The clock face splintered with an extremely satisfying crack, the hammer burying itself into the carpet. Sure, magic would have done the job just fine but using the hammer brought forth a visceral pleasure and feeling anything other than impending doom.</p>
<p>'<em>I can still hear you saying, don't you ever break the chain.'</em></p><hr/>
<p>
  <strong>2004</strong>
</p>
<p>Harry sighed, placing his glass down on the table. Perhaps this wasn't the best idea. He had a class tomorrow and a particularly rowdy one at that. Would Hermione really want him to be here, in a bar, drinking to her memory? She'd probably whack him up the head with whatever book was near her, chastising him for even considering such an immature activity. He could hear her loud and clear in his head. "Harry, you are an absolute idiot!"</p>
<p>He chuckled wetly, picking up his glass and taking another swig. No one around him seemed to take note of his misery. Happy chatter filled the bustling bar, mingling with the smell of greasy food. Waitresses flitted around, carrying trays of drink, and the faint yells of the kitchen staff sometimes reached his ears. It was packed from wall to wall. Who would notice the lone man sitting at the back, gazing off into the distance, seeing something only visible to him?</p>
<p>No one worth their salt, that's what.</p>
<p>Oh, what was he doing? This wasn't right. The idea to go to a Muggle bar had seemed like a good one at first. Escape the Wizarding World and its strange obsession with making that week about Hermoine and what she would have achieved. He couldn't stand them making her into some sort of warning, yet that is what was done. 'Hermione Granger: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.' The biographies and newspaper articles, everyone clawing to make a pretty little penny of her disappearance.</p>
<p>It made him sick.</p>
<p>Sure, the same thing happened to him, every day. He was used to it. But using Hermione's disappearance as profit? It wasn't right, that's what it was. They didn't care about her, or who she was. No, all they care about was how heavy their coin pouch became, even four years later.</p>
<p>He did what he could to get them to stop. Surely, they would listen to Harry Potter when he told them to stop. His words did nothing but feed the frenzy. They took his words and twisted them into a tragic narrative of lost love, or him being the one behind her attack, or her going into hiding because of some dark secret she discovered. Nothing he did would make them stop.</p>
<p>At least out here, they wouldn't follow him. Out here, in the Muggle world, he was free to look like any other sod who didn't know how to manage their own grief. And who could blame him? Hermione was his family. When she went missing, so did a piece of him. It couldn't be replaced, nor could it be mended. It wasn't that simple. Family meant everything to him. Until she returned, it would lie empty, a hole in his heart. A void.</p>
<p>A piece of him he would never get back.</p>
<p>Someone sat down opposite, shaking him out of his melancholy thoughts. He jumped, glancing upwards, to find a shock of red hair opposite him. Ron. Of course, Ron was here. It was a memorial between the two of them. At least now there was someone he could drown his sorrows with, no matter how much Hermione would have disapproved.</p>
<p>"What's got you so down in the dumps?" Ron asked in lieu of a greeting. Harry glared. Of all the ways to say hello, it had to be that. He knew Ron to be tactless, of course, but this was another level entirely. "Yeah, not the best choice in words." Ron grimaced. At least he was aware of his own terrible lack of tact. "How are you, anyway, mate?"</p>
<p>"How do you think?" He swirled his drink around. Ron didn't look any better than Harry felt. It was the same every year, though. His cheeks would sink, deep bags grew under his eyes, fingers always fiddling with something or the other. Whispers of how he should have done better disguised under insincere joviality. A mask.</p>
<p>"Another stupid question, I see." Ron called a waitress over, ordering a beer, the same as Harry. She nodded and bustled off to get it. "It happens a lot these days. I've been given leave off work, again. I can't stand it when they do that." His fist balled. "I know she was my girlfriend, but it's been four years. I can work through it, you know."</p>
<p>Harry sighed once again. "Yeah. My students are so touchy-feely. It's like they can sense my emotions. I do appreciate the sentiment, but it can all become a bit much sometimes. I can only take so many useless apologies and cards. Matilda Garrison gave me flowers the other day. You'd think someone had died."</p>
<p>Damn.</p>
<p>Ron wasn't the only one with stupid words, it seemed.</p>
<p>"So, how are things going at work, apart from the students?" Ron asked, switching the topic. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. It was greatly appreciated.</p>
<p>"Yeah, it's going good. The other teachers are finally starting to see me as one of their own. You wouldn't believe how many awkward encounters I have with them. I know I'm a lot younger than them, but still! The hero-worship is old." To others, it would never get old. Already, he was being written into the history books. He did what he could to live a normal life, but there was only so much he could do when he was Harry Potter. "Professor Sprout finally called me by my first name the other day, so that was nice. And McGonagall offered to tutor me in the Animagus transformation."</p>
<p>Ron chuckled. "She finally gave in, did she?"</p>
<p>"Oi! I haven't been asking for that long." Harry slid into the defensive.</p>
<p>"Only five years. I'd say that's a while."</p>
<p>Oh, so that's how he wanted to play?</p>
<p>"And who is still basically an intern."</p>
<p>Ron feigned outrage. "Ouch, mate, that's bloody low."</p>
<p>"Mmm, yeah, I know. That's all part of the fun," Harry laughed. The waitress came back with Ron's beer. He accepted it with a thanks, and she smiled at him. Ron's cheeks pinked slightly. "Oh, now what's this?"</p>
<p>"Nothing. Nothing at all." His burning cheeks betrayed him, though. Still, guilt clouded his eyes, and Harry immediately felt the very same emotion consume him. He knew Ron's feelings about dating. For him, moving on wasn't something he wanted to do. He hung on the thought that Hermione would come back (she would, if it was the last thing he ever saw) and see him with someone else. How would she feel, how would she react?</p>
<p>But it had been so long. Harry thought that Ron deserved a chance at happiness, and if it meant starting a relationship anew, then sobeit. These last years he'd watched his friend sink deeper and deeper into darkness, no matter how much he clung to the light. Ron was worn out, stretched thin, barely functioning.</p>
<p>"What's this I heard about you and Malfoy, though?" Ron suddenly asked. Harry's eyes widened. How had he known about that? "Last I heard you were being very friendly at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, all sorts of flirting." A devious smile spread over his lips as Harry's cheeks pinked.</p>
<p>"Nothing. Nothing at all." Throwing Ron's own words back at him was a good strategy.</p>
<p>It didn't throw him off.</p>
<p>"Come on, I know somethings going on." He held his hands up in a defensive manner. "Hey, mate, if scrawny ferret boys are your type, I'm not judging. He's a right git, but he could do you some good."</p>
<p>"Okay, maybe there is something there," Harry chuckled. "I still don't know how you found out, though."</p>
<p>"I have my ways."</p>
<p>Their conversation continued long into the night, memories and hopes for the future, and everything in between. There wasn't a moment that went by that he didn't think of Hermione, though. It was hard, being here, having fun, all without her. She would be the one to get them home on time, stop them from drinking too much, whack them upside the head with a newspaper when they made stupid remarks. Her laugh would ring through the air, and she would outdrink both of them.</p>
<p>To be fair, next to firewhiskey, beer was incredibly weak. It was like comparing a mighty oak to a reed. Hermione would still outclass both of them by a long shot. They would cheer her on, loud and unruly, then laugh as she reprimanded herself instead of them.</p>
<p>Later, much later, Ron suddenly said, "I miss her. So much." Quiet, barely able to be heard over the hubbub. His eyes were downcast, hand clutched around the glass in his hand. "I just want her back."</p>
<p>"I'll toast to that." Harry raised his glass, sadly clinking it against Ron's. The most melancholy toast in all of history, surely. Toasting to missing a friend, a sister, a girlfriend? Who were they becoming? Lost in the memories of a better time, when everything was right?</p>
<p>Harry could only hope, through the drunken haze gripped tight on his mind, that his efforts would reveal some results, and soon.</p><hr/>
<p>
  <strong>2008</strong>
</p>
<p>Four years later, sitting around a dinner table, Harry couldn't help but feel the hope was useless.</p>
<p>Nothing.</p>
<p>There was nothing. He was utterly useless, unable to do anything. Oh, how it ached deep within him. There had to be something more he could do, something he hadn't found. So many things swirling around all at once, all surrounding the dark ball at the centre reeking of failure.</p>
<p>And then: the telltale crack of apparition.</p>
<p>Immediately, Harry sprang up, wand outstretched and spell on his lips. Ron did the same, reflexes honed from years as an Auror. Their chairs fell to the floor. Grace O'Reilly remained at the table, though slid her hand into her bag for her knife if it was needed. Before Harry could even think about it, get even a glance at the person, he fired off a venomous, "<em>Petrificus Totalus.</em>"</p>
<p>The person's legs snapped together, arms rigid against their side. They toppled to the ground, and he took the opportunity to profile them. Facedown as they were, it was impossible to get a look at their, <em>her,</em> face. The intruder was a woman, somehow able to get past the wards. She was tall, wore dark clothes, and had on a pair of black track shoes. Her hair was pulled back into a braid, long and brown, puffing out at the end. A strange runic tattoo marked her hand. Perhaps some cult? At this point, it wouldn't surprise him. So many of them sprang up...though now wasn't the time to contemplate that.</p>
<p>Someone had broken into Ron's home, and he was going to find out who they were.</p>
<p>"Who do you think she is?" Ron asked, stopping Harry from flipping her over. He gave Ron a baleful glare, determined to find out who it was. "Come on, let's have a little fun with it. She's contained, what harm could it do?"</p>
<p>Grace snorted. "She ain't goin' anywhere, Harry." She stood, making her way over to the intruder. Harry couldn't help a snort as she poked the woman, who didn't move. It wasn't like she was able to. "See, look. Frozen solid. My guess is on a nosy pap."</p>
<p>Ron nodded sagely. "That was my guess too. I don't know how they managed to get past the wards." He patted Grace on the shoulder. "It's two against one here, I'd say we've got this in the bag."</p>
<p>"Okay, fine. I'd say she's a…" He floundered for a second, "cult member." A sound explanation, and one of his first theories. This one seemed to be true most often, though they didn't often bet on the identity of intruders.</p>
<p>"Always you and the cult members," Ron said. "Alright, let's flip her over and see who we're dealing with." The Wizarding World was so small there was a chance that Harry or Ron, famous as they were, would recognise her. So many people approached them daily it was ridiculous.</p>
<p>Harry knelt, slipping his hands underneath her. He grunted in surprise. She was far heavier than he expected. Eventually, he flipped her onto her back, face towards the ceiling.</p>
<p>His heart stopped.</p>
<p>It was Hermione.</p>
<p>Her eyes were wide, panicked, flickering all over the place. Clearly terrified, unable to move, out of control of her body. Harry immediately moved to unpetrify her, hands shaking. How could it be Hermoine? It was eight years later, she was gone, missing, most probably dead. This wasn't possible. But she was here, right in front of him, petrified in more than one sense of the word.</p>
<p>"<em>Nov-"</em></p>
<p>Ron yanked his hand away from her halfway through the spell. Harry turned to him in surprise. His lips were thinned, nose crinkled, eyes narrowed. His temples flared as he clenched his jaw. "Don't. This is an intruder. It's not Hermione." He glared down at the intruder. "You disgust me."</p>
<p>"Ron, it's Hermione, can't you see?" Harry said desperately, once again moving to cast the spell. "What's wrong with you?"</p>
<p>"She's taller, weighs more, can't you see the differences?" Ron ground out, still glaring down at the intruder. Harry looked closer. Now that he did, he could see the slight differences that Ron pointed out. It didn't quite seem to be Hermione. His gut still told him it was her, though. Something about her eyes, glassy as a doll's yet darting back and forth between both of them with increasing desperation.</p>
<p>"Okay, so we release her and interrogate her then," he said. Ron grimaced, before nodding his approval. This was no longer a game of 'guess the intruder.' Someone could be impersonating Hermione, and he wouldn't stand for that.</p>
<p>"Sick bastard," Grace spat at the intruder. Ron grimaced, agreeing heartily with the sentiment. Harry could see the anger dancing in his eyes. Though he may be in a relationship with Grace, who completely understood his past and accepted him for it, he still missed Hermoine with a fiery passion.</p>
<p>Harry raised his wand. "<em>Novis." </em>A shower of blue sparks flowed down to the woman, swirling around her inch by inch. Every passing second, doubt flooded in further. Was this Hermione? Or some polyjuiced prick trying to get the drop on them?</p>
<p>The woman jolted forwards, sitting up and gasping. She sucked in deep breaths, as if afraid she might never breathe again. Harry and Ron kept their wands pointed at her, ready to take the offensive if need be. Her chest heaved, eyes wide as she gazed up at them. Terror, but also...yearning? What could she possibly want? Either she was an outstanding actor, or this was actually Hermione. She scrunched her nose up, and it was then Harry knew.</p>
<p>"Ron!" he cried as his friend moved to cast a spell at Hermione. "Wait! It's her! It's Hermione!"</p>
<p>She snapped her gaze to him, utterly surprised. Harry grit his teeth.</p>
<p>"How can you know that? How can you say that without proof?" Ron hissed, wand not budging.</p>
<p>"Trust me on this, please," Harry begged.</p>
<p>"It's okay," Hermione whispered all of a sudden. "You can interrogate me. I understand."</p>
<p>That...that was her voice. The same inflections, same everything.</p>
<p>It was Hermione.</p>
<p>She was back. Here, in Ron's house, staring up at them with terrified eyes as they stood with wands aimed at her head. Of all the ways to welcome her back. He cursed his stupidity. He wasn't to know...but it was Hermione.</p><hr/>
<p>After the interrogation where proved she was, indeed, Hermione Granger ("Oh my God, Hermione," Ron choked out), the unfamiliar woman rushed forward and engaged her in conversation.</p>
<p>"Nice to meet you, I'm Grace." Hermione blinked at the bombastic woman before her. "I've heard so much about you. Sorry about all that back there, gotta be careful, y'know? This world is loopy with how much stuff you can do. When I first came here I couldn't believe my eyes. Still can't, to be honest. So much incredible stuff."</p>
<p>"I…yeah," Hermione stammered, unable to get the words to form properly. It was, quite frankly, overwhelming. Everything was right, she was back with Harry and Ron, but it still didn't quite feel real.</p>
<p>She half expected to hear the velvet voice of Jormungandr whisper in her ear, proclaim this another trap. For it all to fall apart in an instant. They were here, she knew this was reality, yet it had been so long since she saw them. How was she supposed to interact? With joy? Tears? Hugs? With her parents, it all came so naturally. She arrived, and they settled back into a familiar routine. Here, it was all so different.</p>
<p>To be fair, apparating into Harry's living room wasn't the brightest idea. After destroying the clocks, desperation overcame her. The ache of missing them returned full force, and she did the first thing that came to her mind, ashamed as she was to admit it. Getting petrified was a reasonable response.</p>
<p>(you were out of control, unable to do anything)</p>
<p>She tamped down on the voice, the visceral terror, and instead turned back to Grace. "I don't think I've met you before?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, you haven't," Ron interrupted, jumping between them and enveloping Hermoine in a hug. She froze, reminding herself that deep breaths meant staying calm. Keeping her head. Wouldn't want to freak out on Harry and Ron, not so soon after reuniting. That was the last thing they needed right now. Truly, she was happy to see them, overjoyed at the mere sight of them. But something held her back from feeling what she expected. Fear of reality shattering lurked in every shadow, stretching its talons towards her.</p>
<p>"It's so good to have you back," he said, pulling back from the hug. She nodded, allowing herself to feel a bit of joy. So what if it was false? Joy was joy.</p>
<p>"It's good to be back." Truly, it was. Being here was all she ever wanted, surrounded by those who she called family.</p>
<p>Harry came over and gave her a very quick hug, something she was immensely thankful for. "I don't care where you've been, or what happened. All that matters is that you're here now, okay?"</p>
<p>She nodded, pulling back from the hug, and choking out a, "Thank you. You don't know how much that means to me."</p>
<p>"Eh, you'd be surprised."</p>
<p>Hermione snorted.</p>
<p>God, how much she had missed them.</p><hr/>
<p>Hermione pulled her hood up, keeping her head low. All the people around her were incredibly overwhelming, though that wasn't the word she would choose. Perhaps...irritating? Yes, that word fit her a lot better. Irritating. She was Hermione Granger, prone to becoming irritated by large crowds of people. Wouldn't anyone become like this? Wanting to hide from them, get away as quickly as possible?</p>
<p>Alas, completely disappearing wasn't an option. If only it was. She would be out in an instant.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, she required particular ingredients that could only be purchased in Diagon Alley. The apothecary was, of course, down the far end. Meaning she had to weave her way through crowds, being sure no one would recognise her face. One day soon they would find out, but right now keeping to herself was her number one priority. In such a state as she was, being bombarded by paparazzi was the last thing she wanted. The very thought sent a shiver down her spine.</p>
<p>"Oh, dear! Miss! You dropped something!" A shrill voice called out behind her. Hermione stopped in her tracks, hesitating. Was it worth turning around? Surely whatever she dropped could be easily recovered. After receiving the Order of Merlin, First Class, she wasn't exactly short on money. "Miss! Here!"</p>
<p>She groaned and turned around, facing the person behind her. They were short, with blond hair and thin lips. A scar marred their face, fairly recent. "What is it I dropped, exactly?"</p>
<p>His jaw dropped.</p>
<p>The jig was up.</p>
<p>"You're Hermione Granger," he stuttered, eyes shining in admiration. "My parents told me all about you. You helped stop Voldemort in the war. I was so small at the time, I don't remember much, but I remember them coming home and talking about you and your friends." He gazed around. "Am I the only one who knows you're back?"</p>
<p>Hermione took a deep breath. She did that a lot, lately. "Yes, you are, and I would appreciate it if you kept it a secret for the time being. Consider it your task from me." Perhaps, due to his admiration of her, asking him to do something so simple would be a simple task.</p>
<p>It did not seem to be that simple of a task.</p>
<p>At the top of his lungs, he yelled out, "But you're Hermoine Granger! Wouldn't you want people to know you're back? If I were you I'd be making the most of it. This isn't something that happens every day." He brushed his hands through his hair, grinning. Hermione grimaced. That wasn't a grin that she liked. Quite the opposite, in fact. It reminded her of a particularly hungry shark.</p>
<p>"Please, keep your voice down," she hissed, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I implore you, keep my secret." Merlin, she was talking like Loki. A pang of loneliness shot through her at the thought of her missing friend. He would be back eventually. He always was. "Do this for me."</p>
<p>"But...I don't understand. You've been gone for so long, wouldn't you want people to know you're back?"</p>
<p>"Not at the moment."</p>
<p>But it was already too late.</p>
<p>The crowd around her began murmuring, drawing in closer. All clamouring for a closer look at the woman who claimed to be Hermione Granger, at least according to the small boy in front of her. She never hated anyone more than at this moment. Well, Jormungandr was another story altogether. But in this moment, that little boy was the target of all her ire. Had he never heard of the word 'tact?'</p>
<p>"Is it really her?"</p>
<p>"I can't see, he has her hood up."</p>
<p>"Good Merlin, could it really be Hermione Granger."</p>
<p>"I call bullshit, she's been gone for so long. May as well be dead."</p>
<p>The words began blurring together, as did their faces. They were statues in an endless white, all sporting a tattoo on the back of their hands, the same as her. No, she wasn't back. She wasn't back. She was here, in Diagon Alley. Things were real. Everything was real. Come on, Hermione, deep breaths. You can do this. It's real, it's real, it's real.</p>
<p>A flash and a pop to her left. Her head snapped around. A woman with a camera stood there, smoke coiling lazily into the air. The reporters. They were here. They always were here. But this wasn't real, how could they be here.</p>
<p>No, there was colour, there was warmth. The people around her were real. Not pulled out of her memory, made to fool her. They were real.</p>
<p>That didn't mean she had to like them.</p>
<p>"Stop!" she howled, backing up against the wall of a random shop. Her hood fell back, hair spilling out. "Leave me alone!" They pushed in closer, the little boy lost in the throng. The camera went off again, and again, and again. This wasn't right, it wasn't right. Nothing about this was right. She was supposed to be alone, alone, ALONE. "Go away!"</p>
<p>"Miss Granger, where have you been all this time?" A voice to her right asked, quill scribbling over parchment. "Why have you decided to come back eight years later?"</p>
<p>"I don't...I don't know." Her throat began closing up. She couldn't take deep breaths, something weighing down on her chest. A brick? A building? The weight of her own failures? No, her lungs couldn't expand properly. No matter how hard she tried, an iron band constricted her breathing. "Please, leave me alone."</p>
<p>"Hermione, what have you got to say about Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. What about Grace O'Reilly, Ron Weasley's new girlfriend? How do you feel about her? Surely you're mad. Do you want to hurt her?" More questions, endless questions, too many questions.</p>
<p>"Why would I want to hurt her? She's lovely." Hermione panted the words out, hands in front of her face. She didn't want to look at them. If only she could apparate away. The wards surrounding Diagon Alley after the war prevented this. She cursed them, cursed that she couldn't get away. The only ways out were the apparition points dotted around and the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron. They were too far away. Pushing through the crowd would be basically impossible.</p>
<p>More people came over, attracted by the crowd, wondering what was going on. Through her blurred vision, she could barely make out their faces. Once again they blended together. Perhaps she was back Geein the prison. Only something in there could be as torturous as this. Nothing was worse than this.</p>
<p>"Oi!" called out a booming voice. A 'Sonorous' charm, for sure. "Leave her the fuck alone!"</p>
<p>Hermione gasped out her thanks, barely able to speak now. Her tongue was lead, teeth tingling up a storm. Still, the crowd didn't stop, pushing forward and forward and forward until she was pressed against the wall. They needed to go away, get away, leave her alone. Why did she even leave the house?</p>
<p>A bright flash appeared in front of her face. Her vision whited out, black spots dancing across the endless white void. Though it only lasted for mere seconds, Diagon Alley soon returning, her heart picked up in pace.</p>
<p>She wouldn't return there.</p>
<p>"Leave me ALONE!" she bellowed, raising her wand and casting a parting jinx. The crowd staggered to either side, clearing a path for her to sprint through. The Apparition point was only a few hundred metres away. She could make it, would make it. The telltale pop of cameras sounded behind her, never leaving her alone.</p>
<p>This was going to be her life for a long while. She would be a fool not to admit it. Viewing it from the outside when it happened to Harry was uncomfortable. Having it happen to herself was incredibly unpleasant. Better to just stay in the house. Owls were available to purchase, and if she paid a little extra, shops could mail order to her. It wouldn't be that hard. The Muggle world could provide an extra hide-away, especially for basic shopping. No one out there knew who she was.</p>
<p>The mere thought filled her with relief.</p>
<p>"Miss Granger! Wait!" She swivelled around, now standing on the apparition point.</p>
<p>"What?" Hermione spat, wand levelled at the reporter standing in front of her. He gulped, stepping back. "What do you want now? What more can you want? Haven't you done enough?" This wasn't good. Don't be aggressive, they'll only spin it against you, Hermione. Remember what they did to Harry. They'd do the same to her in an instant.</p>
<p>"Where have you been?" He raised his camera, gesturing to the woman next to him. She primed her quill, preparing to write down anything she said. Hermoine had to be careful, watch what she said.</p>
<p>"You really want to know where I've been?" The crowd nodded eagerly. "Fuck you!" She spat, turning on her heel.</p>
<p>The silence of her living room was almost as bad as the hubbub outside.</p>
<p>She scrambled to the record player, wand clattering to the ground. With quivering hands, she began playing the first music she found, not even aware of what it was. All she cared about was the fact that they were gone, she was back, alone, with her choice of noise. Yeah, noise was good. Not that type of noise, though.</p>
<p>Anything but that type of noise.</p>
<p>The endless questions, the cameras hissing and spitting, flashing in her eyes. Pressing in around her, controlling her, pushing her into a corner where she couldn't do anything.</p>
<p>Fuck them.</p>
<p>Fuck their stupid games.</p>
<p>She was in control now. In control of her life, everything she had ever done and would ever do. Never again would she relinquish control. So what if the articles tomorrow morning tore her down, lambasted her until she bled? She would pay them no mind, going on with her own life. She was in control.</p>
<p>(are you really? Can you believe that?)</p>
<p>The following morning, when the headlines came out, she read them.</p>
<p>All of them.</p>
<p>'<em>Hermione Granger Returned: The Mad Heroine?'</em></p>
<p>'<em>War Hero Returns a Raving Lunatic! Everything you need on the Hermione Granger Story!'</em></p>
<p>'<em>Where Has Hermione Granger Been and Where Is She Now?'</em></p>
<p>Despite her promise to be titanium, she couldn't deny the crumbling of her resolve once again. Was that really what they thought of her? The raving mad heroine of tragedy?</p>
<p>The following morning, Hermione Granger curled up in a corner and wept, surrounded by the smashed remains of a clock.</p>
<p>Maybe she wasn't okay.</p><hr/>
<p>Two days later, Hermione stood in her backyard, wand pointed to the sky. She wasn't quite sure how to go about this. All the knowledge she gained about Asgard never mentioned how to contact Loki in particular, and he never told her. It was always him visiting her, never her visiting him. It was time for that to change.</p>
<p>Asgard may not welcome her. After all she had been through, she couldn't find it in herself to care. Odin, the colossal dick, could keep his mouth shut. She was practically an Asgardian with whatever Jormungandr had done to her. Tomorrow she would test her new capabilities, write it all down in a book. Books were nice.</p>
<p>(are you ready to face the fact that you've changed?)</p>
<p>"Heimdall! I request an audience with Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard and Second in line to the throne!" she called out, wand still raised. Thank Merlin for silencing wards. The last thing she needed was the newspapers printing more articles, reporting on her yelling at the sky for a Norse hero of old. The headlines were venomous. She didn't want more of that.</p>
<p>No response.</p>
<p>"Heimdall, open the Bifrost!" Perhaps demanding would work. That did the trick with Loki when she visited Asgard at fifteen years old. What she wouldn't give to return to those golden halls, gaze upon the ethereal vista of Asgard. Interact with figures of legend, and see her best friend.</p>
<p>Still nothing. She groaned in frustration, dropping her wand to her side. Why did she think this would work? Loki specifically kept their friendship a secret from Odin after their falling out so many years ago. Over ten years ago now. What a strange thought. To her, it was only five. Yet here she stood, in 2008, having missed so much. What she wouldn't give to go back and experience those missing years.</p>
<p>"Come on, Loki! I know you can hear me. I'm back and want to see you again." Well, wasn't that the understatement of the century? Now that regular contact was established with those most important to her, the fact that Loki was not here sent pangs of loneliness shooting through her. She shouldn't be lonely. But the truth was, she missed him.</p>
<p>More than anything. Missed his crazy, harebrained schemes, the biting sarcasm and casual arrogance, the way he oozed regality. His greasy hair, which she constantly reminded him to wash, the ridiculous attire he insisted was royal. She never doubted him, but that didn't stop her from making fun of it. She missed their conversations long into the night. He taught her Asgardian forms of magic she could manage, and she taught him Midgardian forms of magic. Frustratingly, he could perform all of the spells she showed him, while only a fraction was true for those he introduced to her.</p>
<p>Every little thing piled together into one big ball of longing. And if she was reduced to yelling at the sky, hoping a golden man with all-seeing eyes would take pity on her, sobeit. At this point, it wasn't the weirdest thing she had ever done. Being trapped in an ancient Asgardian prison constructed to hold the world serpent, unsurprisingly, ranked at the top of that list.</p>
<p>"Come on!" She slumped to the ground, humming under her breath. "Can't you hear me? I'm back, dammit." Still, there was nothing. She knew his life wasn't exactly the easiest thing to live. He would be here later this week, surely. She didn't often call out to him from her backyard. Surely that was something to take notice of.</p>
<p>The trees lining the fence, planted by her and Ron so many years ago, whispered in some form of an answer. A breeze tickled her skin, and she giggled. At least the solitude she found here was nice. With her music, her friends occasionally dropping by for a visit, and the study upstairs, life was finally getting back to normal. True, she did miss how it used to be, not doing so would be simply bizarre.</p>
<p>There was nothing she could do to go back. Reminiscing on past moments like they would return would do her no good. The future drew her onwards, stepping into a better future. She <em>would </em>work hard to make a better future for herself.</p>
<p>The thought of what would befall her if she didn't haunted her.</p>
<p>Giving up on the thought of Heimdall transporting her to Asgard ("You have one week, Loki," she muttered), Hermione returned to her study, plucking out an advanced book about runes. With all the spare time she now found herself facing, still not willing to go out and get a job just yet, learning about Runes was an attractive pastime. A double-edged sword, more knowledge and protection from anything similar to the portal chamber happening again. Plus, she could apply them to protect herself. Strengthening the wards around her house was a top priority.</p>
<p>When Loki next popped by, she would ask him for knowledge on Asgardian runes. Adding to the pile would only do her good. Yes, that would do nicely.</p>
<p>With a slight smile playing on her lips, Hermione Granger sank into the runes book, scratching notes in the notebook by her side.</p>
<p>Not once did she look at the notebook from the Portal Chamber.</p><hr/>
<p>"Merlin's balls, Hermione," Ron said, peering into her wardrobe. She ushered him away, snapping the doors shut. "You sure you're not trying to cosplay as Snape? There are no light clothes in there at all."</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes. "Come on, Ron, it's been eight years. A girl is entitled to a wardrobe change every now and then. Besides, I like the colours. Black and navy are very in right now."</p>
<p>"Are they?" Ron said dumbly, walking down the stairs. Hermione followed him, fondly shaking her head. He may be absolutely brilliant in some fields, but fashion was not one of them. Besides, she was in control of her wardrobe, and if she wanted to wear all dark clothes, that was fine. She wasn't hurting anyone. The old ones went to a second-hand shop.</p>
<p>Ron didn't need to know about how wearing white set her heart aflutter, and not in a good way. How when she wore white, everything blurred together and her breaths came in short, quick, desperate gasps. All she could see was the white void, stretching out before her, neverending, swallowing her whole. She couldn't tell them about that, wouldn't tell them at all. What would they think of her, changing her wardrobe because of something so small?</p>
<p>It wasn't that, anyway. She wasn't lying when she said black and navy, with the occasional pop of forest green, were nice colours. She thought they suited her very nicely, and would wear them for the foreseeable future (liar).</p>
<p>"Anyway, want to come over for dinner tomorrow night? It's so great to have you back and I-"</p>
<p>"I'm okay," she said hurriedly. What if she was out and Loki turned up? That wouldn't be the greatest look. 'Oh, yeah, I called for you, but I was out. Nice to see ya again.' "I'll come another time. "</p>
<p>Ron's face fell. "Okay, if you're sure. I won't push you to do anything you don't want to."</p>
<p>God, Ron was such a good partner. No, he wasn't that anymore. Grace was his girlfriend.</p>
<p>He wasn't hers anymore.</p>
<p>It was time to face that fact even though it shattered her heart like glass.</p><hr/>
<p>Five days later, Loki hadn't turned up. She chewed her lip and returned to the hefty stone in front of her, runes written upon it in charcoal.</p>
<p>Where could he be?</p><hr/>
<p>Dirt stained her hands, worked deep into the crevices and under her nails. Hermione scowled at it. Of all the things to do. Why choose manual labour when she could easily dig a hole with a flick of her wand? She was using it less and less, choosing to do things the Muggle way. The activities brought a sense of familiarity. Perhaps that was why. There was no other reason, none at all. Yes, she was merely breaking bad habits of overusing magic.</p>
<p>After all, magic was a tool, not a crutch. She refused to lean on it for everything and become incompetent in other fields.</p>
<p>She grabbed the etched stone to her left, heaving it into the hole. "Come on, just a little further." Gently, she lowered it in, until it nestled comfortably in the hole. Hermione grabbed her wand and grinned. Now this, this would make her house more secure. Ron, Harry, Grace, her parents and Loki were all keyed into the wards, able to make it past without any hassle. This particular concoction of runes would deter anyone trying to get in without her permission.</p>
<p>Save for owls.</p>
<p>They got in.</p>
<p>Owls were very cute.</p>
<p>With a tap of her wand and a whispered, "<em>Protect me," </em>the wardstone activated. A stream of bright blue light, iridescent, otherworldly, shot towards the sky, spreading out into a shield. In an incredibly beautiful light show,</p>
<p>Though it may not be the most sophisticated contraption ever made, it made Hermoine incredibly proud. The last week had been a series of trial and error. Protecting herself was the top priority. A repeat of Diagon Alley couldn't happen.</p>
<p>Useless, you didn't do anything, whispered that traitorous voice at the back of her head. She knocked her hand against the side of it.</p>
<p>"Shut up. I don't want to hear you right now. This is a good day. I got the wardstone working." Her smile fell. "Only ten more to go."</p>
<p>By the time she was done, this would be the most secure location in England. Second only to Hogwarts. Adding Asgardian runes on top of that would only strengthen it tenfold. Her grin returned at the thought of Loki. He sure was taking his sweet time.</p>
<p>He would be here eventually, though.</p>
<p>He always was.</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em>Hermione wandered through the field, gazing up at the wine-kissed sky. Brilliant hues of red and orange battled for dominance, reflecting from the mirror ocean stretching towards the horizon. It may as well go on forever. Long fronds of grass, the same colour as wicker baskets, ticked her hands, crunching softly under her feet. A frigid, biting breeze whistled through the air, though Hermione couldn't bring herself to shiver. This was perfect, it was peaceful.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It was where she wanted to be.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Blissful solitude, a light silence that left her to her thoughts. Not a shred of white to be seen. Yes, this was where she was happy. Never would she leave.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>She idly made her way forward to the cliff edge, gazing out across the ocean. Somewhere out there, dolphins leapt through the waves with effortless elegance, whales mournfully cried out, hideous creatures lurked in the deep. Oh, what a beautiful place.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Suddenly, the ground began shaking. She stumbled, arms whirling around. Clumps of dirt crumble away from the cliff, careening downwards. But they didn't land in the ocean. Instead, they made contact with a giant scaled head rising towards her.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Grey scales, chipped and scratched, falling off and peeling. Empty eye sockets stared towards her, flesh rotting away with every second. A scream ripped its way from her throat, but the giant snake didn't care. Wouldn't care. She knew that.</em>
</p>
<p>"<em>Get away from me!" She turned tail and ran, sprinting through the field. The long grass morphed into gnarled hands, clawing at her ankles. With an anguished cry, Hermione fell to the ground. Her lungs cried out as the wind was ripped from them.</em></p>
<p>"<em>Foolish girl," the voice chided. "You know you can never get away from me. Running will do you know good, I will always follow you. Guilt has a way of sniffing out that which it belongs to, after all." The giant head loomed closer. Hermione scrabbled at the ground, nails cracking and breath coming fast. Her ankles were secured tight, and she could do nothing but listen. "Silly girl. Believing you are free. You are misguided, stupid, a wolf in sheep's clothing."</em></p>
<p>"<em>Stop!" she pleaded.</em></p>
<p>"<em>No, I don't think I will."</em></p>
<p>
  <em>And then, with a terrible roar, the giant snakehead bore down on Hermione, maw stretched wide. Its razor-sharp teeth glinted in the sunset, painted red, before engulfing Hermione into endless darkness and pain.</em>
</p>
<p>"Agh!" Hermione awoke with a scream, sheets tangled around her legs. "No, not real, not real, not real, not real. I'm free, I'm out of there." She drew her knees close to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Sweat ran down her neck and forehead in rivulets, staining the sheets and her pyjamas. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.</p>
<p>She was strong.</p>
<p>She was strong.</p>
<p>She was supposed to be strong.</p>
<p>"I am strong," she whispered, over and over and over, a mantra until she lulled herself to sleep, never noticing as the sweat mingled with salty tears.</p>
<p>
  <em>I am strong.</em>
</p><hr/>
<p>"Hermione! I'm here!" A muffled voice called through her door. Hermione jumped, book flying out of her hands. It landed on the opposite couch, pages crinkling. She groaned. Damaged books were not on her to-do list. That would be a tough fix. "Completely unannounced, I know, but I wanted to see you!"</p>
<p>A vaguely unfamiliar voice. The wardstones were now set up. That meant it could only be one of two people. Either it was Grace O'Reilly, or Loki disguising himself as a woman, attempting to trick her. She shook her head. The second one was reaching, that's for sure. It had to be Grace.</p>
<p>Out of nowhere.</p>
<p>It seemed to be in character for the spontaneous, bombastic woman.</p>
<p>"Come on, I know you're home. These wards don't lie, you know."</p>
<p>How did...nevermind. That was an issue to be resolved later. These last few months, Hermione had been working on relaxation. That meant not getting her knickers in a twist over small things. Sure, her wards getting compromised, viewed, by someone other than herself wasn't a small thing. But Grace was a trusted person of hers, even though they'd only met three times. Grace wouldn't take advantage of the wards like that. Even if it was slightly creepy that she even looked at them in the first place.</p>
<p>Hermione's eyes widened.</p>
<p>Grace was a Muggle. She had no way to look at the wards.</p>
<p>In an instant, Hermione stood at the door, barely able to contain her excitement. Loki may think himself clever, but she saw through his tricks this time. Honestly, he needed to up his game if she was seeing through them this quickly. Then again, she was extremely clever and well versed with his sneaky schemes. Perhaps she was merely upgrading herself to match his level of intellect.</p>
<p>Oh, who was she kidding? They'd always been at the same level intellectually, just in different fields.</p>
<p>Hermione opened the door, rushing forward and enveloping him in a hug. Why he chose to disguise himself as Grace, she would never know. Right now, she didn't care. Her best friend was back!</p>
<p>"Loki!" she cried, throwing herself onto him. Her. Person. What pronouns was she supposed to use? "I'm so glad to see you again."</p>
<p>"Um, Hermione?" His voice came out as uncertain, riddled with questions. That didn't seem like him. The illusion must be incredibly strong. He did mention he was working on improving them. This must be a test of one of his new abilities, and a highly successful one at that.</p>
<p>"Yes?" She still didn't let go of him. Yeah, that (him) sounded good. He'd been gone for so long. Letting go didn't seem like a good idea.</p>
<p>"Who is Loki?"</p>
<p>Um. What?</p>
<p>"I'm sorry?"</p>
<p>"I'm not Loki, whoever he is. I'm Grace." Hermione pulled back, getting a good look at his face. It did appear to be identical to Grace, down to the small freckle resting on the side of her nose. Small streaks of light blue shot through her grey irises, the lips bowed in the middle, teeth slightly chipped.</p>
<p>Hermione shook her head in disbelief. It had to be Loki. Every action this person made reeked of him, down to the picture-perfect trickery. She couldn't be the one seeing things. She wasn't that desperate, was she?</p>
<p>"Are you sure? How did you look at the wards if you're a muggle?" Her eyebrows crinkled.</p>
<p>"I wasn't looking at the wards. I saw you through the window." Hermione's heart dropped as the person now revealed as Grace sighed. "I was trying to be funny. It didn't work."</p>
<p>Disappointment potent as a love potion washed over her. This was just pathetic of her. Loki would come eventually, and it wouldn't be in the form of someone else. He knew how much he meant to her, just as she knew how much she meant to him.</p>
<p>"Right," Hermione said, peeling herself off Grace. This could be played down as a mere misunderstanding, surely Grace would understand her point. "Nice to see you?"</p>
<p>"I'm honestly not sure," Grace chuckled. "I mean, I'm happy to see you, but you were obviously waiting for someone who wasn't me. Loki, was that his name?"</p>
<p>"Yeah," she said morosely, "that's his name."</p>
<p>"You magical folk and your strange names. Who knew that you would name someone after a Norse god. And of all the ones to choose from, it had to be Loki?" Grace stepped inside, dragging Hermione along behind her. Hermione yelped. Okay, this wasn't expected.</p>
<p>It took a second for Hermione to snap herself out of her funk and realise what Grace said about Loki. She bristled but knew that Grace didn't mean anything by it. Who was she to know, when all she had heard were the legends? They didn't exactly paint him in the best light. A fact that constantly annoyed her. "Loki is not like the legends. He's very nice. A bit of a bastard, an arrogant prick, but a very nice man." She yanked herself from Grace's grasp and smoothed her clothes. "Also, nice to see you ask permission before coming into someone's house."</p>
<p>Grace winced apologetically but didn't speak on the topic. "And how long has it been since you've seen him?"</p>
<p>"I...what?"</p>
<p>"I said, how long has it been since you've seen him? You clearly miss him." She rolled her shoulders, eyebrows furrowed. "I think I'm going to need to see a chiropractor after that hug. How strong are you?"</p>
<p>"I'm honestly not sure," Hermione answered. "I've still got to test it out and everything. I've been meaning to do it for months." She didn't miss the way her friend's double-take at her strange wording.</p>
<p>"Don't dodge the question," Grace needled, patting Hermione on the shoulder. "How long has it been since you saw him?"</p>
<p>Now it was becoming far too much. Grace barged in without asking, pressed her with uncomfortable questions and then demanded answers she had no right to know. It was time to put her foot down, put it down hard, before she became angry and did something she would regret. Though Hermione was loath to admit it, her temper over the last few months had been bubbling right at the surface. Her ability to control it had increased, but it was still incredibly disconcerting.</p>
<p>"Drop it," Hermione said through gritted teeth.</p>
<p>"Come on-"</p>
<p>"I said, drop it." Her voice lowered, almost to a growl.</p>
<p>Grace stepped back, grimacing as if she realised what she was doing. "Sorry. My bad. I push too far sometimes."</p>
<p>"Yeah, you do." Hermione gathered herself up, ignoring the storm brewing beneath her skin. Grace wasn't to know, couldn't know, shouldn't know. This wasn't her fault. Hermione knew her well, and Grace O'Reilly came with nothing but good intentions. An impressive lack of tact, but good intentions nonetheless. Time to put this behind her, ignore the way her fists clenched and her heart ached.</p>
<p>God, how she missed Loki. It had been far, far too long. Where was he? Where could he be? It had been months since she called.</p>
<p>Did he just not care about her anymore?</p>
<p>"Yeah, sorry about that." Grace switched in an instant. Perhaps acting could be a good career for her. "Anyway, back to why I was here in the first place."</p>
<p>"And what's that?" Hermione said tautly. Come on, she thought, don't blow up in her face.</p>
<p>"Wanna go out for dinner with me? Girl to girl?" Grace sat down on the couch, grinning. Hermione blinked, so caught off guard that her anger was knocked clean away. This was...not what she was expecting. Not in the slightest. She didn't mind. "I know that we have our differences, but I really want to move on from that."</p>
<p>"Differences? How so?"</p>
<p>"You know, how you were in a relationship with Ron one minute, then you get back and I am. I never meant to hurt you in any way, and I'm sorry if I did." She awkwardly scratched the back of her neck. "I've been a bit of a nonce, I'm sorry."</p>
<p>Hermione, completely bewildered, said, "Where is this coming from? I don't hold any resentment towards you in the slightest."</p>
<p>Grace did a double-take. "Wait, you don't?"</p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p>"Well, that's great!" Grace clapped her hands. "Let's go out for dinner and then to a movie. Girls night out! How does that sound?" She grinned, linking her arm with Hermione's. Always the theatrics, the best kind. Hermione may not know her well, but Grace was a very dramatic person. It was refreshing.</p>
<p>She couldn't lie, it did sound nice. But what if Loki came by while she was gone? The whole misunderstanding with Grace reignited the fire of hope within her. But a girls night out did sound enticing. How long had it been since she went out with a friend, just to do something fun? Nothing focussed on defence, or reunion, or knowledge. Just a night out on the town, mindless (scheduled) fun.</p>
<p>The last time was with Loki.</p>
<p>Over eight years ago.</p>
<p>"You know what? Let's do it!"</p>
<p>Instantly, she felt lighter.</p>
<p>"Woohoo!" Grace cheered, shooting to her feet. "Okay, you go get ready, I'll wait down here." She was practically vibrating, eye alight with excitement.</p>
<p>"On one condition," Hermione said. "That we go to the Muggle world. I'm done with all the press."</p>
<p>"Oh, of course. I've seen the articles. They're horrible. Plus, I've already made reservations for use, and bought movie tickets."</p>
<p>Okay, that was a lot. Grace was a lot. A force of nature, something to be reckoned with. Hermione couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't made friends with her sooner.</p>
<p>"You've really got this whole thing sorted out, haven't you?"</p>
<p>"Yup, down to the letter. I asked Ron, and he said you like schedules, so I made a plan. Not too rigid, though, gotta leave room for some spontaneity." Grace grinned. "Just the way you like."</p>
<p>It was official.</p>
<p>Hermione Granger really, really liked Grace O'Reilly.</p><hr/>
<p>Half an hour later found Hermione padding down the stairs, dressed in a black skirt and shirt, along with a navy jacket. Nice and dark, the way she liked it<strong>. </strong>Grace squealed at the bottom of the stairs, showering her with compliments. Hermione's cheeks pinked.</p>
<p>"Oh, you look simply lovely. My dear" Grace made a face. "Okay, yeah, that's not working. Never speaking like that again."</p>
<p>"What, like the professors at Hogwarts?"</p>
<p>"They talk like that?"</p>
<p>"Some of them do."</p>
<p>"I couldn't imagine it."</p>
<p>Hermione chuckled. "Yeah, it's a pretty amazing place. Now, where are we going?"</p>
<p>"Where's the fun if I tell you?" At the look Hermione gave her, Grace relented. "Okay, okay. We're going to this new restaurant called Blacksalt. All the rage. I've heard amazing things about it. And you want to know the best part?"</p>
<p>"Hmm?"</p>
<p>"It's only two blocks away from the movie theatres. I've booked us tickets for the new Narnia movie. It's going to be so fun."</p>
<p>"I have to say, that does sound nice. Alright, how are we getting there."</p>
<p>Grace's face fell. "Oh. Right. Transport. That's a thing."</p>
<p>"Are you telling me you didn't think about transport?" Hermione giggled. "All this planning and you forgot how we were going to get there?"</p>
<p>"There was a lot to think about, alright?"</p>
<p>"No need to worry. We can take a Portkey there. Do you have a picture of the building?" Grace went onto her phone and pulled one up. Hermione frowned. So mobile phones worked here, even under all her heavy wards. That was good to note. There could be something to make out of that…</p>
<p>Hermione picked up a cushion she didn't particularly care for anymore and tapped it with her wand. "<em>Portus.</em>" It briefly glowed, before returning to its normal state. She always liked portkeys.</p>
<p>"Okay, so, how does this work? Please, please, please don't tell me it's like Apparition. Ron did that with me once and I'm never doing it again. It's the worst thing ever, I'm telling you." Grace shivered. "Seriously, I don't like being stuffed into a straw."</p>
<p>Hermione shook her head. "Oh, I don't disagree. It's quite harrowing. No, this works in a far more pleasant way. Just put your hand on it, and it takes us where we need to go." Grace didn't budge. "Put your hand on it, it's leaving in ten seconds."</p>
<p>"What?" Grace shrieked, clutching onto the cushion. "That's not enough time."</p>
<p>"But where's the fun in that?" Hermione grinned as she felt a tug at her navel.</p>
<p>This was going to be a fun night, she could tell.</p><hr/>
<p>It turned out that Grace was a lightweight, and a lightweight lightweight at that. Thankfully the music and chatter filling the restaurant were loud enough to cover up her gleeful screeches.</p>
<p>"Oh, you should have seen him," Grace cackled, gesturing grandly. Her crystalline glass swung wildly, wine sloshing around dangerously. Hermione couldn't help but worry about it. "He looked right about ready to die. All red cheeks and wide eyes. I say he deserved it."</p>
<p>"And what did he do again, if I may ask?"</p>
<p>"Stop being so polite, dingbat." Grace plonked her glass down. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, discreetly slipping it to a passing waiter. "He asked out every girl in the class because he couldn't stand the idea of being without a date. And then, to get revenge on him, every girl partnered up with each other!" She patted around for her wine glass. "Strange, I could have sworn it was here. Oh well. That's actually where I met my first girlfriend. She was lovely."</p>
<p>"Oh?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, but we just didn't really mesh as a couple. Great sex, though." Hermione's eyes widened. "We're still friends to this day. I see her every other week. Her sense of humour is sharper than a knife. Similar to her teeth, actually. Wait, no, teeth are blunt. Butter knife humour?"</p>
<p>"Okay, I think it's time to stop," Hermione said. "We still have a movie to see, and I don't want to get kicked out because you're being too loud."</p>
<p>"Aw, come on. It won't be like the last time. I think me yelling at him was justified."</p>
<p>"Another man asking you out?"</p>
<p>"Nah, the man on the screen, who else would I be yelling at?"</p>
<p>Just when she thought Grace couldn't become wilder, her expectations were turned on their head and beaten like an old rug.</p>
<p>"Ooh, our food is here. Hermione, look, steak." Two steaming plates of food were placed down in front of them. Steak for Grace, chicken for Hermione. It smelled absolutely delectable. "If I don't eat this, you could say that there would be a lot at stake." Hermione groaned, which only caused Grace to cackle further. "Okay, I'm sorry, you're just too much fun to be out with."</p>
<p>"I've barely done anything, though. I've just come out to dinner with you." A javelin made of insecurity jabbed into her confidence. How could Grace enjoy spending time with someone as screwed up as her?</p>
<p>"Stop talking yourself down." Grace tilted her head. "Is that a saying? Who cares, it is now. So, Hermione Granger, you are going to stop talking yourself down and start enjoying yourself."</p>
<p>And just like that, Grace swept the doubts away with her tactless reassurance. How could one person be so compassionate and so tone-deaf at once?</p>
<p>"I am enjoying myself, I'm just not a lightweight like you are."</p>
<p>"Low blow," Grace dramatically gasped, clutching her chest. "It's true, but low blow."</p>
<p>Hermione shrugged. "Let's eat before it gets cold."</p>
<p>"Good idea!" Grace grabbed her steak knife and dug it into the piece of meat, hand fisted around the handle. "Wait, I don't think that's right."</p>
<p>"Not quite. Do you need me to show you how to eat? I'm sure it wouldn't be that hard for you to understand, even though you are extremely thick." The barbs slipped from her mouth without effort. Grace seemed to appreciate it if the way her laughter increased was any indication.</p>
<p>"Oh my God, you're good. I'm so glad we're doing this."</p>
<p>Hermione hummed, digging into her own chicken. "Me too, Grace. It's nice to have new friends."</p>
<p>"Let's make this a monthly thing, shall we? An occasion for the ages." Once again, Grace grimaced. "Talking like that still isn't working. Why do I keep trying?"</p>
<p>"I do not know."</p>
<p>Hermione could see why</p><hr/>
<p>"That was brilliant!" Grace crowed as they walked out of the movie theatre. She still clutched the popcorn container, eyes wide with excitement, adrenaline. Hermione shared the sentiment. She always forgot how much she enjoyed going to the cinemas.</p>
<p>"I am inclined to agree." She sounded like Loki. "This has been a very good night."</p>
<p>"God, I don't want it to end." Grace slumped into one of the booths in the lobby. Hermione followed suit. "This has been so much fun. Did you know I haven't done this for years? It's been 'work, work, work' for so long that I forgot how to have fun." Her face fell. "Oh shit. I wasn't an asshole to the servers at the restaurant, was I? I worked as a waitress, it's how Ron and I met. Shit, shit, shit."</p>
<p>"Grace, you were fine. I would have said something if you were being an asshole," Hermione reassured.</p>
<p>"You sure?"</p>
<p>"Yes, I am sure. I wouldn't lie to you about something like this."</p>
<p>"Phew." In an instant, Grace perked up. Once again with the rapidly switching emotions. "This has been so fun. I still don't want it to end." Back to previous sentences, then.</p>
<p>Hermione sat up straight. "Then let's keep going."</p>
<p>"What? I thought you were big on plans and schedules, all strict and stuff."</p>
<p>"Didn't you say there was space for spontaneity?"</p>
<p>Grace beamed at Hermione, so bright she may as well be the sun. "I did! I said that." She quieted down when several glares were sent her way. No chatter to cover up her voice, now. "I said that."</p>
<p>"Indeed. So, what do you want to do?"</p>
<p>Grace thought for a minute before her face lit up. "I've got it! Roller Skating!"</p>
<p>Immediately, images of the last time she went roller skating flashed through Hermione's mind. Her, sprawled on the floor, Loki gliding by with effortless elegance. Laughter spilling from her lips, bright spotlights circling as music thumped through the floor. "I'm sorry, anything but that." Why was she saying no? She loved roller skating. "We can do something else."</p>
<p>"Aw, why?"</p>
<p>"I don't want to talk about it."</p>
<p>"Okay, cool!. See, I'm learning not to push!" That drew a snort from Hermione. "Hmm, how about ice skating? I know a local rink that's open this late. Luckily it's only on this night. We really lucked out. Plus, it's similar to roller skating but not exactly the same. What do ya say?" Grace hiccuped, putting her hand over her mouth. "Oh my god, I sound like a salesperson."</p>
<p>"You do," Hermione chuckled. Ice skating. Yeah, Ice skating sounded nice. She could do that. "Let's do it."</p>
<p>"Score!"</p><hr/>
<p>Frigid air met her face as she opened the door to the rink. Thank Merlin for warming charms. She subtly cast one on herself. Immediately her teeth stopped chattering. She hummed contentedly as she took in the ice rink. Bleachers rose on three sides, a net encasing the ice, no doubt for rogue ice hockey pucks. A throng of people, old and young, skated around on the ice. Some clung to the railing, while others gracefully glided as if on air.</p>
<p>"God, I'd forgotten how cold this was," Grace shivered. Hermione pointed her wand at Grace (held in her sleeve, completely out of view) and cast the same warming charm. The difference was instant. "Oh, wow, okay. That's nice, that's really nice. Magic is the best thing in the world. I don't know how I ever lived without it."</p>
<p>"But you can't perform magic," Hermione said quietly as they picked up their skates. Grace shrugged.</p>
<p>"Doesn't matter. Just being around it is enough for me. To be honest, the theory fascinates me enough to satisfy me for the rest of my life."</p>
<p>"Other people would be jealous." Hermione cringed. Of all the stupid things to say.</p>
<p>"Yeah, I understand. I was at first. Who wouldn't be, when you can perform miracles with a few words and a flick of your wand. It's absolutely crazy." Grace shook her head, lacing up her skates. "But I soon figured out there's no point being jealous. You've got your things, I've got mine. Doesn't stop me from being fascinated, though. The things Ron has shown me are amazing, and they never seem to stop. Sorry, I get chatty when I'm talking about something I like."</p>
<p>"Don't apologise," Hermione said, tying the last knot in her laces. She stood, clinging to the rail for balance. It would be even worse on the ice. Still, she was better at ice skating than roller skating. "It's refreshing hearing about magic from someone who still is passionate about it. So many people treat it as a mere tool, not something to be cherished and nurtured."</p>
<p>They both stepped onto the ice, wobbling around for a little bit. Hermione kept a firm grip on the rail.</p>
<p>"I know!" Grace squeaked, slipping further away from the rail. "You wouldn't believe the things I've seen. People are so lazy."</p>
<p>"I've seen some crazy things myself"-<em>people falling to dust in her fingers, a giant snakehead addressing her as an equal, an endless white vista cold as nightmares</em>-"so I get what you're talking about." She shivered, though not from the cold. "Believe me, I know."</p>
<p>Grace switched the topic, sensing Hermione's growing discomfort. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Come on, let's skate a little faster."</p>
<p>"I'm quite comfortable here, thank you very much." The railing was now her best friend.</p>
<p>"Oh, so I'm better than you?" Grace taunted, sliding to a stuttering stop in front of Hermione. Her way was blocked. "Don't you want to prove you're the winner here?"</p>
<p>So she knew what buttons to press.</p>
<p>"Alright, O'Reilly, game on."</p>
<p>Later that night, two shivering, bruised women made their way out to a deserted alleyway, where they travelled back to their houses via magical means. The moon rose high in the sky and stars twinkled merrily in the sequined sky.</p>
<p>Both were laughing merrily, cheeks flushed and aching from excessive smiling.</p>
<p>Hermione was so glad Grace O'Reilly barged into her house.</p><hr/>
<p>Two months later, Hemione decided it was her turn to host their meetup and chose her house. After going out twice in a row, it was nice to take a break and just chill in her own safe space. Going out too much left her weary with exhaustion.</p>
<p>"Ugh," Hermione groaned, letting her face fall to the dining room table with an unceremoniously 'thunk.' "This couldn't be harder."</p>
<p>"Hmm?" Grace asked, looking up from the kitchen. Smoke filled it, the acrid stench of burnt cookies assaulting Hermione's nose. "What's going on."</p>
<p>"Defensive magic. It's like there's a block and I can't get past it." She snapped the book shut. This was the only subject that gave her grief and it infuriated her to no end. "It was like this in fifth year, when I was learning the Patronus as well. I'll get past it eventually, but it's just...agh!"</p>
<p>"You want instant gratification, right?"</p>
<p>"No, that's not it."</p>
<p>"Look, I get it. You're scared." Two months after their night out and Grace was already privy to most of her fears. "That just means you have to work harder. It sucks, I know, but things don't just come to you."</p>
<p>"I know, I know."</p>
<p>"Do you need a partner to practice with?" Grace offered, chucking the cookies into the bin. "These things were never going to work out anyway. I wonder if Ron will be able to tell the difference between homemade and store-bought?"</p>
<p>"Probably, but he won't mind. Cookies are cookies." What Grace had said caught up with her. "Wait, are you sure? Most of them will have to be practised on or around you. I don't want to hurt you."</p>
<p>Not like she had hurt Loki. Why else would he not have answered her call, and the many that followed, in the eight months after her return? Oh, how the guilt consumed her, ate away at her, tore her apart from the inside. It destroyed every fibre of her being thrice and then some. What had she done to offend him so?</p>
<p>"I trust you. You haven't hurt me yet, and if you do, it won't be on purpose." Grace walked into the lounge. "Do your fancy transfiguration thing, though. Don't want to destroy any of this." She flapped her hands at the lounge. "And a girls' gotta defend herself, ya know? If you've got the tools and the ability, I say do it."</p>
<p>"Okay, okay, yeah. I'll just…" Hermione slashed her wand through the air, calling out all the needed spells. The lounge shifted from a picturesque scene, pristine thanks to her obsessive cleaning habits (it would never fall into disrepair again, she wouldn't let those thoughts gain control of her rapidly shifting mind ever again). Soon, a small arena-like structure, with padding on the walls, surrounded them.</p>
<p>"I like your style. Very gladiatorial. Pow-pow, the lions fear me! Right, so," Grace clapped her hands. "Are you starting with basics and working your way up? Or going straight into the new shit?"</p>
<p>"I'll start with the basics and work my way up. It has been a long while since I've performed many of these spells."</p>
<p>Too long. She had been stupid, sitting idle for months, letting her defensive and offensive magical skills languish at the wand side. What if something happened, and she wasn't able to defend herself and those she loved like she used to be able to? Never again would she be taken advantage of. This was her chance to rise above the curve once again.</p>
<p>It would start today.</p>
<p>"Alright, I'm going to start with a simple Stupefy, okay? It will knock you unconscious." She swished her wand and several red cushions eagerly raced over, forming a pile behind Grace. "You'll fall back on those, so you won't get hurt."</p>
<p>Grace gave her the thumbs up, then mimed lowering goggles over her eyes. "Ready whenever you are, chief!"</p>
<p>Hermione took a deep breath and said, "<em>Stupefy!</em>" A burst of red light shot from her wand, striking Grace directly in the chest. She immediately fell unconscious, crumpling to the ground.</p>
<p>Hadn't lost her touch, then.</p>
<p>Everything worked perfectly. Hermione cast '<em>Rennervate' </em>and Grace jerked awake with an excited gasp.</p>
<p>"That was so cool! It was like falling asleep in an instant. God, I wish I could do that every night." She grimaced slightly. "I'm gonna have a bruised chest, though. Oh well. So, what's next?"</p>
<p>"I want you to try and get through this shield I cast."</p>
<p>"Sweet, I can do that."</p>
<p>Ten minutes later, Grace collapsed onto the cushion pile, huffing and puffing. "What on Earth is that shield made of? Titanium? I couldn't get through it if I tried."</p>
<p>"That means it's working." Hermione helped Grace to her feet. "Do you want to keep going?"</p>
<p>"Are you kidding? This is awesome. Magic is amazing, and you want me to stop? Come on, hit me with all you've got. I want to see more."</p>
<p>Hermione rolled up her sleeves. Time to get serious.</p>
<p>Grace mirrored her grin and they began the training in earnest. It would become a weekly routine, one that Hermione held near and dear to her heart.</p>
<p>She very determinedly didn't pay attention to how it began spiralling into an obsession.</p>
<p>She was fine.</p>
<p>She was strong.</p>
<p>"<em>I am strong."</em></p><hr/>
<p>
  <em>January 1st 2009</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Dear Hermione</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>As a new year's resolution, I decided to begin a journal. My thoughts are whirling around my head faster than I can follow. I figured getting them down on paper would help me. Some days it feels like I'm about ready to keel over, with everything that is going on.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I've already been back for over half a year. How does that work? Time passes so quickly out here. I can almost feel it passing, dragging over my skin. Honestly, fuck Jormungandr and his stupid games. I may have saved thousands of peoples lives, but what did I sacrifice when I did that? My own sanity? Looking back, I can't believe I didn't believe him at first. The evidence is there, clear as day, that the Prison would have exploded outwards if not for me.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I'm finally beginning to admit to myself that I have changed. I'm taller than Ron now, weight twice as much as I used to, and have to eat far more than I used to just to feel full. If I don't I barely manage to get up in the morning. I can't get intoxicated, though I wouldn't want to in the first place. With my mental state as it is right now, I wouldn't want to turn to drink.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>A few months ago, I could barely admit to myself that I am not okay. I carried on a facade of normalcy, insisting with every motion that I was okay. That I could just carry on. I was so naive, barely seeing past the end of my own nose. So, yeah. I, Hermione Granger, am not okay. I'm a mess. </em>
  <em>I still don't want to think about it, thou</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Loki still hasn't turned up. I miss him so, so much. No matter how much I call for him, and I've done it a fair few times, he passes up my offer. I can't help but wonder if he has given up on me. I know he can hear me, and any prior engagements he may have had couldn't take eight months. He's told me of his exploits, and the longest took six, even that being a stretch. He said he would always come back to be, that he would return, yet his absence has me wondering if I am no longer worth his time.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He's always been arrogant but in a rather charming way. If it increased, would he even want to spare me a glance? He knows that he is intelligent, wonderful, handsome and clever. More clever than most. We do match each other in academics, though we specialise in different fields. He was never afraid to admit that, and even said that he wanted to learn more about Midgardian magic from me. Why would he sacrifice that chance? I still have the lesson plans we drafted together sitting in the study, ready to go.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Funny thing, I've started thinking of Earth as Midgard now. Funny how other people's habits pass off onto you. I suppose if you spend long enough thinking about it, it becomes true. With all the realms out there, the vastness of space, changing the name of a planet isn't too far fetched.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I'm finally starting to feel like I'm reconnecting with my family. It's taken so long. They were treading around me like I was made of glass and would shatter without a moment's notice. It has been infuriating, to say the least. Dad has finally got it in his head that I'm not going to be leaving any time soon, and Mum has stopped trying to break my bones with hugs every time she sees me. The things they do. I understand their side though, even if I haven't experienced it. Everyone has different ways of dealing with trauma, and the last thing I'm going to do is judge them.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I feel so guilty for leaving them. I couldn't do anything about it, but I left everyone, without notice, for eight years. I want those years back. I think I'm going to learn about them as much as I can. Even now, after all the learning I've done, there is so much to do. Just last year, there were the incidents with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. How does something like that even happen, especially to people without magic? Technology is progressing at an amazing rate, and I want to follow it's progress. Plus, not to mention, all the world events that I have missed out on.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Okay, yeah, this journal was the right decision. I feel more energised already. Calm, but energised. That's certainly a strange feeling, but I like it.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>So, I'll be signing off for the night. Farewell, until tomorrow night, Hermione.</em>
</p><hr/>
<p>The unmistakably sharp air of a supermarket assaulted her nostrils. Hermione didn't like these places. They were too white, too bright, too sterile. Yes, they were alive, but something was always missing. Still, it was a good place to get food, and food was essential. Especially because she didn't have to worry about reporters hounding her every move. She still hadn't forgotten how they followed her when she went to Diagon Alley.</p>
<p>The articles still run, wondering what was going on with her, whether that day at Diagon Alley had been a mass hallucination. She hadn't ventured out since then, so if they found her, it would be so much worse. She found herself wondering if it would be worth making a single statement about what happened, so they would leave her alone with all their wondering. But, knowing their relentless nature, they would only hound her further and further until she snapped, giving them exactly what she wanted.</p>
<p>"Ma'am, are you alright?"</p>
<p>Hermione snapped back to reality. The woman in front of her, with wrinkles deep as ravines lining her face, gave her a tired look. Hermione glanced around, balling her hands into fists to stop them from shaking. This place was suddenly too small, closing in on her. She wouldn't let it, though, she was fine. She was fine, fine, fine. The journal entry from six months ago would say differently, but in real life she was fine.</p>
<p>"Yes, I'm fine," she said, disguising the quiver in her voice with a nervous laugh. "Sorry about that. Thought can be so attention-grabbing sometimes."</p>
<p>"Yeah, you youth are so strange, getting lost in thoughts." The lady gestured to Hermione's heaping cart. "Come on, send it over, I ain't got all day. There are people behind you waiting to be served."</p>
<p>Hermione nodded, kicking away any more thoughts of reporters. They were what caused her to be in such a way. If the mere thought of them set her off like this (she wasn't set off, wasn't triggered, was fine, this was normal, she was fine, she was strong) what would the actual sight of them do to her?</p>
<p>"Yeah, of course." She began heaping her groceries onto the conveyor belt. The lady grumpily scanned them, chucking them into plastic bags without a second thought. Hermione couldn't help but wince as tins of tomatoes were thrown on top of the bread, squishing it instantly. Damn, that bread was going to be a nice treat for her.</p>
<p>Soon, it was time to pay. The lady, still scowling, read out the price. Hermione pulled out her card and swiped it, grimacing at the price. She couldn't keep this up much longer. Her savings dwindled with every passing week, as much as she saved, it all disappeared so quickly. Even now, while she only bought the cheapest food (aside from her weekly splurge), it went down the drain without a second thought. She couldn't keep it up for much longer, would have to get a job or some form of income that didn't involve sitting in her home reading about the last eight years.</p>
<p>"Thank you for shopping with us today," the woman droned, handing Hermione her receipt. "Go get your head checked out. Next please!"</p>
<p>Hermione silently fumed, pushing her trolley out towards a back alley where she could transfer it all to her bag and apparate home.</p>
<p>She didn't need to get her head checked out. What she needed was more money, and fast.</p>
<p>But she could wait a few more months, stretch it thin.</p>
<p>Even the thought of returning to work sent illusions of giant snakeheads dancing before her eyes and a crushing silence pressing down on her throat, slowly siphoning the air from her lungs, rejoicing in the way she choked.</p>
<p>She could wait a few more months.</p>
<p>She was fine.</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em>Crash!</em>
</p>
<p>Hermione jerked awake, throwing the duvet off with one fluid motion. In an instant, her wand was clutched tight in her hand, defensive basilisk hide armour wrapped around her body. It was one of the best purchases she ever made. There was nothing wrong with being prepared. In fact, the shop thanked her for her numerous commissions and sent her a coupon code to use next time, which was very nice of them.</p>
<p>Deep down, Hermione knew that it was frivolous purchases such as this that made her money disappear. But they were justified. She was only protecting herself from potential threats, keeping herself safe. Never again would she be taken advantage of, never again.</p>
<p>With stuttering breath, Hermione made her way to the landing of the stairs, muttering "<em>Homenum Revelio</em>." A silent radar shot outwards in a sphere all around her, extending ten metres beyond the many Wards surrounding her property. No one should be in here, her house was locked up tighter than Hogwarts. She made sure of that herself, layering ward upon ward until even she knew it was time to stop.</p>
<p>And, true to her belief, there was no one inside her house. Instead, several figures stood at the boundary of the ward, lit up in a bright, blazing red. Strange objects were clenched in their hands, rather ominous looking. Hermione gulped, striding down the stairs. She ignored the way her heart picked up in pace, the way her mouth dried out, the way her tongue turned to lead and her hands shook as if in an earthquake.</p>
<p>She was Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age. A few intruders, if they could even be called that, weren't going to scare her.</p>
<p>(but they do scare you, don't they)</p>
<p>In the lounge, the darkness grew. Gnarled finger reached out for her soul, her very being, beckoning her to succumb to the terror growing deep inside her. Faint lights glinted through the curtains, shining through the cracks. Strange shadows danced on the coffee table, reflecting off the mirrors. All of a sudden it wasn't so dark, so dreary.</p>
<p>
  <em>Crash!</em>
</p>
<p>It sounded again, several times. It sounded like someone was pounding on an immovable wall, becoming more desperate with every attempt. They must be banging on the wards. The glowing outlines faded, but even as they did she saw them moving, crashing down upon the wards over and over. Spells were launched at it, so many she began to lose count.</p>
<p>What right did they have to invade their home, whoever they were? She spent over a year building the defences so something like this wouldn't happen. Indeed, they weren't going to get through, but it didn't matter. This was her home, she was supposed to be safe here.</p>
<p>A wave of anger suddenly overtook her fear, though the fear still remained, cloaked within the simmering fury. With venom lacing her tongue and sparks shooting from the tip of her wand, she yanked the door open and marched towards the Ward Boundary. They may not be able to see her, but she could see them, clear as day.</p>
<p>What she saw set her blood to boil.</p>
<p>At least ten wizards and witches, maybe more, all camped outside her face. The moonlight cast their faces in silver, their grins feral and wild. Cameras were held in their hands, wands in the other. Spells shot towards the wards, ricocheting off instantly. Some fizzled out of existence before they even made contact. They complained, voices muffled but words clear as day. How long had they been here?</p>
<p>"Come on, she has to show herself soon, right? How long can one woman hide inside her house?" A vaguely familiar man asked. He had blond hair and a vicious scar crisscrossing his face. Was that...was that the boy who discovered her in Diagon Alley over a year ago? It couldn't be, he seemed so nice. Oblivious to other's feelings and similar things, but sweet overall. To see him here sent ice rushing under her skin.</p>
<p>"This is ridiculous, I can't believe her. All we want is information, people want answers, and we want to give them to her. How hard is it for her to see that?" grumbled another, a woman this time. Dark curls clung to her face, her eyes shadowed over. She was particularly vicious in her spell casting, relenting only to titter to her fellow attackers.</p>
<p>"She'll have to come out eventually. She can't hide in there forever," replied the blond boy.</p>
<p>Hermione bristled. Here they were, talking about her like she wasn't even there. To them, she wasn't. But they treated her as a story, something to further their profit. They complained about her staying in her home, her safe space, yet attacked it with gleeful vigour. She had read the many articles, and even books, published during her absence. It seemed over the years she had been warped from a war hero to a tragic mystery.</p>
<p>To them, it was all about solving the mystery. Not about her feelings, not how she would react. No, to them she was merely a story waiting to be told, coin ready to be deposited straight into their pockets.</p>
<p>It made her sick.</p>
<p>"You don't know how tricky this woman is, Smith," the woman answered. "She would stay hidden in there forever if she could. With the wards she's put up around the goddamn fortress I wouldn't be surprised if she did. From what I've seen, though, she's an absolute mess who can't resist a bit of baiting. What we're doing here should be enough to draw her out. I can just smell another bestseller."</p>
<p>Smith chuckled. "You know you're the reason reporters have a bad reputation, Sars?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, I know, but you've gotta do all it takes to get a scoop. If that means staking out her house to finally squeeze an answer out, so be it." She finally stopped spellcasting, wiping sweat from her forehead. "Right, I'm spent. That should be enough to draw her out in the next few hours." She turned to the rest of the group. "Right, everyone stop! She'll be out soon, she can't stay inside forever."</p>
<p>Hermione screamed at them inside her head. Oh, the things they said, unaware she was stood right there, listening to every poisonous word they spat. Oh, how they would regret their actions here tonight when she attacked them in retaliation and took them to court. Normally, she wouldn't, preferring to take the more peaceful route. But tonight, with months of stress driving her on, she could think of nothing more appealing than non-lethally containing them. The joy it would bring her was unparalleled.</p>
<p>Hermione opened her fist, dispelling the shield. "And stay down." Thank Merlin for all her practice. A few months ago, she would have lost the fight in an instant. Now, she was an expert only hoping to get better. Raise the bar beyond even this. She grimaced, wiping the blood from her mouth. Somewhere in the skirmish, she bit down on her tongue hard.</p>
<p>"<em>Diffindo!"</em></p>
<p>Hermione shrieked in pain as the deadly spell slashed across the back of her feet. The feeling of flesh separating, the sound, brought bile to her throat. She fell to her knees, sobbing, in complete agony. It spread rapidly outwards, a fire licking at her skin. Her wand slipped from her hand, the least of her concerns. Even without looking, Hermione knew that both of her Achilles' tendons were severed down to the bone.</p>
<p>
  <em>Sars.</em>
</p>
<p>She forgot about Sars, bound in yards of rope. Wand peeking out of the binds.</p>
<p>"What the fuck was that for?" she yelled through wet, gargling gasps.</p>
<p>"To get you down," Sars sneered. She severed the ropes with a single motion of her wand, storming over to Hermione. "All we want is the truth. Why is that so hard to see? Is it so hard to give us what we want?"</p>
<p>Instead of answering, Hermione grabbed her wand. Her hands quaked as she drew a glowing rune in the air, ignoring Sars' needling. As soon as the rune was complete, golden and hanging in the air, the wards surrounding her house pulsed. A blue shockwave pulsed, racing towards her. The second it touched her, the pain was snatched away. Her heels knitted themselves together again, returning her ability to walk. Hideous scars would always mark her heels, but she didn't care as long as she could walk.</p>
<p>Sars took a step back as Hermione rose, lips pulled back into a snarl and wand sparking with her rage. She towered above the woman with her newfound height(not so new now, she'd been this height for a year, yet she couldn't bring herself to measure it).</p>
<p>"I don't care who you are," she spat, "but you are going to leave. You won't print a word of this, and if you do, I will take you to court, testify under Veritaserum and drain your Gringotts vault until nothing remains." She took a step closer. "Now, leave and take your cronies with you. I won't wait any longer."</p>
<p>"How did you, what did you do?"</p>
<p>"I protected myself. I know the law well, and what you've done here tonight is completely illegal. I am in the right and have contained your people without hurting them. Now, leave!"</p>
<p>Hermione stomped back towards her house, anger slowly trickling away. Fear crept in, but not of the attackers. No, a fear of herself and what she was now capable of. This wasn't her, she didn't act like this. Yet she threatened them, knocked them unconscious. She could have simply not shown herself, stayed inside until they left. Yet she didn't. She relished the opportunity to leap out and fight with them.</p>
<p>Who was she turning into?</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em>Who Is Hermione Granger?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>By Sars Sandringham</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The mysterious witch who returned over a year ago has yet to make another appearance. Speculation surrounds her every move or lack thereof. What is she doing today? To discover that, we have to take a brief look at her past post-Hogwarts, gathering clues from her activities over the years.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Post Hogwarts, Granger took a position in the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures. Anyone who knew her at Hogwarts would note her extreme passion for the rights of magical creatures. At the time of her work there, she was reportedly miserable and soon left after a four-month tenure. Though we tried to get a statement from her coworkers, we weren't able to get a hold of any of them.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>During this time, she was working on a bill to found an organisation that would give magical creatures the ability to speak for their own rights in court without fearing immediate discrimination. It is stated that she wasn't working to erase discrimination against magical creatures, rather lessen it and begin the steps towards an equal society. She is quoted as saying, "I recognise that the road to equality is a long one, and I am willing to walk that road. I will not be a mouthpiece for magical beings over England, merely provide them with a platform for them to use their voices in a safe manner." No further statements have been heard on this bill.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>She was in a long-term relationship with Ron Weasley, another member of the so-called 'Golden Trio' of Hogwarts, and one of the war heroes from the Second Wizarding War. They lived together and were a happy couple according to inside sources. That didn't mean their relationship was safe from pitfalls, though.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>After leaving her prior position, Granger quickly moved to a new one in the Department for the Research of Rare and Archaic Magicks and Spells. This department is extremely mysterious and secretive, so virtually nothing is known of her time here. A couple of months into working there, she and Weasley had a disagreement. For weeks, they lived apart. Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>During this time, Granger disappeared. Though the Aurors and outside sources worked tirelessly to find her, no trace was ever found. Four years later, Weasley moved on, getting into a relationship with Muggle woman Grace O'Reilly. When questioned on the subject he said: "I am not disrespecting Hermione's memory by being in a relationship with another woman. She's been gone for four years now. Even though I want her to come back more than anything, I'm not doing myself any favours by staying lost in the past. I've got to keep moving. Grace is wonderful, and she gives me hope."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The Wizarding World mourned, yet the world continued turning.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Eight years later, Granger appeared in Diagon Alley, spotted by the young Jason Smith. She refused to be questioned, instead opting to flee to an Apparition point, seemingly panicked. Since that moment, she hasn't shown herself, not even to go shopping. Her whereabouts is a significant mystery, along with what she is doing with her time. Will she—cont. on page 5.</em>
</p>
<p>Hermione snorted, folding the newspaper in two and slipping it into the top draw of her desk. Sars was the worst kind of person, a mask of benevolence hiding vicious disregard for those around her. Anything to get a story. Still, it was nice to see that her message made it through. Her heels twinged, a phantom echo of that excruciating pain.</p>
<p>She should have done something, done anything.</p>
<p>But she didn't.</p>
<p>
  <em>She didn't.</em>
</p><hr/>
<p>Hermione cursed under her breath when she realised her situation was dire. Barely enough money to last another week. She'd been pushing and pushing, eating less and less, telling herself that she could last another few months if she was just careful. But with her spending money on potions ingredients, countless books, high-grade armour and wardstones, her bank account drained faster than she could see. No matter what she did, how much she tried to deny it, there was only one thing she could say:</p>
<p>She needed to get a job.</p>
<p>After a year of staying in her home, barely going out except to get food, and her visits with friends dwindling to once a month, the thought of a job sent goosebumps running across her skin. All the possible disasters that could befall her ran rampant through her, mind a stampede knocking over and rebuttal that dared to rise.</p>
<p>Surely, there could be something that she could do that didn't include going out. There were so many jobs in the world. There must be something out there for her. Preferably in the house. Where she didn't have to go out and worry about anything. Something she was good at and would enjoy doing that would also bring in enough money for her to live a comfortable, secluded life.</p>
<p>Nothing seemed more appealing.</p>
<p>"Come on, there's gotta be something," Hermione muttered, cursing the way her brain went conveniently blank. "Of all the times. I've only got a week before I've got nothing." Still, nothing came to her. No split-second epiphanies, no explosions of genius. Nothing like she usually had. She ground her teeth, turning to the book in front of her.</p>
<p>A break to read, then she would come back to it. Some things took time, she recognised that now. Not everything had to be instant.</p>
<p>Then, as she turned the first crisp, white page, an idea struck her. She could do it while staying at home, pursue something she was passionate about, and earn good money from it due to her current fame. Oh, what a way to take advantage of her notoriety.</p>
<p>That night, with soft candlelight casting warm shadows on her face, Hermione Granger decided that she would become the next great author of the Wizarding World, all without having to take a step out the door.</p>
<p>The next morning, she sent out an order for all the components she needed, using all but a Galleon. The food in her cupboard would have to do. Most of it wasn't perishable, so it would last long enough.</p>
<p>"Game on," she said, pen primed to write.</p>
<p>And write she did.</p><hr/>
<p>"Miss Granger, I'm not quite sure I understand," said the small man, called Jones. His nose leapt off his face, wild thicket-like brows clinging to his forehead. Small watery eyes looked over the paper she handed him, shaking slightly in his rickety hand. "You want me to publish this? What reason would I have? We already have an extensive syllabus range that serves its purpose perfectly well." He sighed. "I'm sorry, but I just don't see any reason to continue forward."</p>
<p>They both sat in his opulent office, decorated with various awards and a significant amount of gold. How much of it was real remained to be seen. Hermione's completed manuscript sat open on the table between them, begging to be published.</p>
<p>Hermione nodded, answer already prepared. She would be a fool if she hadn't prepared for rejection. "I see your point, but that is where our viewpoints differ. Those books haven't been updated in the last thirty years. The information in them is outdated, though the spells may be similar in content. Several new spells have been invented since then, as well as the theory behind these topics being updated."</p>
<p>"Do continue," Jones said, tone intrigued but face bored.</p>
<p>"I am not proposing to replace the syllabus. What I am wanting to do is have an additional handbook that first years can look over, filled with general information. It would be a companion piece of literature that's been made fun for them to read. The information is a lot more current, so it may be able to provide a perspective that the older books don't." Her words wound around him with serpentine grace, preparing to go in for the kill as she brought out her two trump cards. "Plus, I hold some of the highest scores in history for both the O.W.L.S and N.E.W.T.S, meaning that I can guarantee the validity of my information. And, I already have a modicum of fame to my name, meaning that it would be an instant bestseller."</p>
<p>At the mention of money, Jones perked up. How dearly Hermione wished she could roll her eyes. Of course, it was money. She should have lead with that.</p>
<p>"You bring up many convincing points, Miss Granger. I must say, the case you've presented is strong. Forgive me for thinking you sought to replace the syllabus. The marketing of this as a companion piece would be an exciting new angle, especially for parents wanting their children to learn more than the core syllabus had to offer. Though I know we don't control the Hogwarts syllabus, the teachers do, we play an instrumental part in recommending texts for the students."</p>
<p>"Thank you," Hermione answered, itching for an answer. A dog yapped from within a photo frame hanging on the wall behind them. Jones swivelled, almost as if taking counsel from the dog. He nodded a few times, muttering under his breath. Hermione caught a few phrases, including 'potential earnings' and 'marketing opportunities.'</p>
<p>He turned back around, a grin splitting his raisined face almost in two. "You've got yourself a deal, Hermione Granger. It will be out by the end of the month. Of course, you do understand that there will be quite the lead up to it, including several press conferences and book signings."</p>
<p>Hermione held her hands up. "I'm sorry, but I won't be doing any press conferences or book signings. I understand that these help boost the earnings of a property, but I have had many bad encounters with the press in the past months. I'm sure you remember those scathing articles?" Jones winced. Just as she thought. "I am willing to make statements through a third party, to be posted in the Daily Prophet, but I won't directly interact with the reporters, nor the public. I hope you understand."</p>
<p>"I suppose that is a fair compromise," he said. "The sales this book will generate solely because of your name will be astronomical. You will be a rich woman within the year. We could translate it for overseas sales as well…"</p>
<p>He continued rambling, Hermione listening intently. Through some miracle, she was able to contain her excitement. This was the most prestigious publishing house in wizarding England. The things she could do with them attached to her name were endless. She knew they were good, extremely good. Some described them as unnaturally good. After extensive research, Hermione discovered it was due to shrewd business practices and smart employees who were treated very well.</p>
<p>An hour later, she apparated back to her lounge directly from Jones' office. A week ago, interacting with someone new for so long would have left bone-weary exhaustion hanging over her. Not now, though. She was going to be a published author, a childhood dream of hers, and wasn't planning on stopping soon.</p>
<p>It was, quite literally, perfect.</p><hr/>
<p>It was a hit.</p>
<p>The second it hit shelves, copies were gobbled up. Rave reviews rocked the papers, though some criticised it for being too juvenile. At those, she snorted. It was a book meant for first years, of course, it was going to be basic. She received many happy letters from parents, many from the disgruntled, established authors. Most, she ignored, focusing only on the sales and how happy writing it made her.</p>
<p>The manuscript for the second year version sat open in front of her, the first draft close to complete. Sure, the timeframe she did them in could be considered 'fast.' But she wasn't leaving the house. Hadn't in a month. It was the best month of her life, holed up in her room with nothing to distract her from her work save the odd visit from her friends. Though they expressed concern for her situation, she reassured them that she was doing better than ever.</p>
<p>It was true.</p>
<p>They didn't need to know about how the thought of going out made her heart beat faster, sent quivers to her hands and disaster scenarios running through her head, her heels twinging occasionally as she paced her study.</p>
<p>But now, she had a newfound purpose. She would become an author, helping others in their pursuit of knowledge while furthering her own.</p>
<p>A soft smile spread over her face as she set her pen to the page.</p>
<p>Everything, for once, was alright.</p><hr/>
<p>At the dawning of the year 2010, Hermione Granger stood in her backyard under the star-studded sky. Not a cloud obscured her view, moon burning silver above her. A slight breeze rustled the wild trees along her fence line, though she paid it no mind. Wrapped up in thick clothes complemented with warming charms, she didn't even notice the biting cold.</p>
<p>"Come on, come on," she muttered. She shifted, rubbing her legs together. Okay, maybe she was a little cold. "Can't you hear me? I've waited for so long. Is there nothing I can do to get you to forgive me? I've tried everything I can think of." She swallowed the phlegm building in her throat. "Can I at least say goodbye?"</p>
<p>Somewhere up in the sky, on a far off, mystical realm, Loki Odinson was surely feasting with his fellow Asgardians, without a thought even directed towards her. Sure, that familiar mask would be in place, hiding his discomfort and disdain for others. But still, he was up there and she was down here.</p>
<p>Alone, so small.</p>
<p>Insignificant in the bigger scheme.</p>
<p>Over a year had passed since she last called. Nothing had happened in the time since. Not even a whisper. Not even an illusion telling her he didn't care for her anymore. Hermione knew he could hear her, she wasn't a fool. Heimdall, he could hear her, and Loki often listened in. She <em>knew </em>he heard her pitiful pleas.</p>
<p>Yet he didn't reply.</p>
<p>"Do you truly not care for me anymore?" she choked out, putting a hand over her mouth. Though she tried to disguise her hurt, push it down, no longer could it remain hidden. It climbed up from its hole, infecting her with hurt and betrayal, and the uncontrollable urge to scream away her anguish, let the night snatch it away in inky fingers and lock it away in a safe. "What did I do wrong? Just tell me, please. I'll leave you alone." She fell to her knees, finally letting that overwhelming grief take over. "Please."</p>
<p>At the dawning of 2010, Hermione Granger sobbed in her backyard. Horrible, guttural keening noises, like the cries of a wounded animal. No one heard her, obscured by the wards as she was, ignored by the 'gods' as she was.</p>
<p>That night, Hermione Granger finally let Loki go.</p><hr/>
<p>"And why are we here again?" Harry asked, plonking himself down on her garden bench. "I still don't understand what you're trying to do."</p>
<p>"Honestly, Harry? I've explained it so many times," Hermione griped, finishing her transfiguration of her back garden. Where lush green grass and magnificent plants used to stand (lovingly tended by her daily, one of her new habits) a gym like environment now stood. Weight racks, the magical equivalent of a treadmill measuring tapes, the whole shebang.</p>
<p>Everything she could possibly need to measure her new capabilities.</p>
<p>Finally, after nearly two years, she was getting around to discovering her new capabilities. It still rendered her supremely uncomfortable. No matter. Actually getting herself to do something was enough effort alone. Hence, why she employed the help of Harry, Ron and Grace, her three closest friends.</p>
<p>"You grew, yeah, kind of hard to miss." He groaned, standing up. "Why so early in the morning, though? It's barely seven."</p>
<p>"We've got to make the most of the day. There is so much to do, and I didn't want to do this alone." That one fact was the only thing spurring her onwards. If she had her choice, she would happily ignore this for the rest of her days, pretending that everything was normal. That when she cast spells they needed to be tightly monitored so as not to become grossly overpowered, or how she was stronger, faster, more durable. Recognising those facts meant admitting she had changed.</p>
<p>She didn't want to change.</p>
<p>Yet she realised how important this was for not only her mental health but physical health as well. Doing it in a clinical, test-like way was comfortable enough.</p>
<p>"How many things do we have to test, exactly?"</p>
<p>Hermione hummed. "My height, weight, body measurements, how strong my spells are, how fast I am, how strong I am, how durable I am, how long I can hold difficult spells, and a lot more that I have written down in my notebook. Now, that may not seem like a lot," she said as Harry made to speak, "but we have to do several tests for a lot of them to determine an average, and it will take a long time."</p>
<p>He sighed. "Okay, yeah, I see your point. Let's get going as soon as Ron and Grace get here, shall we?"</p>
<p>Hermione gave him a thumbs up.</p>
<p>"You won't have to wait long, then," said Grace. Hermione yelped, jumping into the air. That woman could move so quietly, it was absolutely ridiculous. "We're both here, just portkeyed in. Good idea to do it so early." She put a box down on the ground. Hermione couldn't help but wonder what was inside it.</p>
<p>"Alright, let's get started, then," yawned Ron, stretching like a cat. "We've bought baking and I want to eat it."</p>
<p>Hermione nodded, picking up a measuring tape. "Let's do this."</p>
<p>Funny thing, surrounded by friends, it suddenly didn't seem so bad.</p><hr/>
<p>"Okay, this is getting ridiculous." Hermione sat in her office, the door cracked open. Downstairs, her record player was full volume. Upstairs, it barely reached her ears. Something needed to be done about this. She would put another record player in her study, but there was simply no space for it. Besides, constantly switching the records out when they finished interrupted her workflow, especially when she was working on a new book. What she really needed was something small where she could listen to music uninterrupted.</p>
<p>The annoying thing was, any Muggle technology that she brought home hissed and spattered then died. Sparks flew, screens went black, buttons became useless. Her Wards may be a godsend, getting constantly updated, but they were the bane of her existence technology was concerned. There had to be a way to make it work, though. Some variety of spells that would protect a small piece of muggle tech.</p>
<p>An MP3 player was what she needed.</p>
<p>Shutting her book, Hermione made her way down to the lounge to get her wallet. Credit cards, debit cards, everything she would need to get by in the muggle world. She was nothing if not prepared. Within a minute, a portkey was prepared, her wand tucked securely into its holster. No one would be finding out about her today.</p>
<p>Three hours later, she returned with an MP3 player securely tucked into her jacket, buzzing with excitement. How long had it been since she did something like this?</p>
<p>And when she started testing little things on it, she began to feel strange. Light.</p>
<p>Is this what she used to be like?</p><hr/>
<p>A storm raged outside her bathroom. Rain lashed at the frosted windows, angry, hungry, hurting. The stark light of the Lumos charm harshly illuminated her face, all sharp angles and eye bags.</p>
<p>Oh, her face.</p>
<p>Her terrible, beautiful, unchanging face.</p>
<p>The house gained dust, the seasons changed, her friends gained laughter lines and smile lines. Yet her face remained the same.</p>
<p>At least her hair grew.</p><hr/>
<p>When 2011 rolled around, Hermione Granger knew something needed to change. Her bank account overflowed from her many books and their success, her friends were so good to her, her parents gave her hope. But she hadn't left her house in months, relying on owl delivery and her friends. Her hair hung lank around her elbows, and she couldn't bring herself to clean her house. It was a cesspool, just like her mind.</p>
<p>The motivation for her work never failed to flow, yet she couldn't find the energy to do anything. She saw her friends, yet they were the ones organising every visit. She apologised, yet they told her not to worry. She was a hermit, yet they reassured her that it was okay.</p>
<p>She was depressed, yet she swore she was, "Just fine, I'm fine, I'll be alright, you don't have to worry, okay?"</p>
<p>On the day where she woke up in sheets that caught with her every movement, her hair clinging together and toenails dragging on the floor, she knew something had to change.</p>
<p>And so, she made the decision to leave.</p>
<p>Though every instinct screamed at her to stay in the safe-space, where it was warm, there was no white, where clocks didn't <em>tick-tock </em>and music filled the silence, she packed her suitcase, made teary goodbyes to her friends and family (she carried a magical mirror, one of a set of three, and a cellphone to contact her parents wherever she was, along with parchment paper for letters) and left with a promise to return eventually slipping from her lips.</p>
<p>She took the first flight out of Heathrow, to a destination she didn't care to name, ignoring the way her chest became tighter and tighter the further she went from her home.</p>
<p>She was okay (are you really?).</p>
<p>She was strong (you'll shatter if someone looks at you wrong).</p>
<p>She was Hermione Granger (you don't live up to the name).</p><hr/>
<p>A town in New Mexico was practically levelled, with someone called Thor in the centre. She wondered if he was the kind, arrogant man she met all those years ago.</p>
<p>She didn't care to investigate. It would only bring more pain.</p>
<p>Asgard didn't matter to her anymore.</p><hr/>
<p>Hermione watched the television in horror. New York stood decimated, aliens pouring out of a glowing portal in the sky. A blue beam shot up from Stark Tower, obviously powering it.</p>
<p>But none of that mattered. It all paled in comparison to what she saw, <em>who </em>she saw, at the centre of it, clad in Asgardian battle armour, sceptre clutched in his hand.</p>
<p>
  <em>Loki.</em>
</p>
<p>He was...he was attacking Earth, an alien army backing his every move. He stood tall, proud, a manic grin stretching across his exhausted, battle-worn face. Hermione gasped, jumping closer to the television. It couldn't be him. It just couldn't. Yet, as the news reported on the attack, she couldn't deny it.</p>
<p>It was him.</p>
<p>A litany of emotions surged through her, all linking back to one: Betrayal. Deep and dark, thick as tar and twice as volatile.</p>
<p>Without a second thought, she sprinted into the bathroom, pulling out a book from her purse. "<em>Portus.</em>" It glowed blue, and at the end of thirty seconds, she was whirled away in a vortex of rainbow light.</p>
<p>She landed on the top of Stark Tower. It only took a second to locate him, whizzing by on what appeared to be a motorised air scooter. She cried out, leaping towards him and twisting in the air, a nearby destination at the front of her mind.</p>
<p>As she touched his skin, they teleported away.</p>
<p>Hermione tears were all that remained.</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Trigger Warnings: </p>
<p>- Depictions of panic attacks<br/>- Characters getting triggered<br/>- Suicidal thoughts<br/>- General depictions of anxiety/depression</p>
<p>+++</p>
<p>Gees, this one took a toll on me. I was barely able to get it out, thanks to my left hand crapping out halfway through. I tried to make it as detailed as possible, but the ending was quite painful for me. Still, I'm quite happy with it. I really hope that you enjoyed it!</p>
<p>Until the next time, my dear friends,<br/>Mariadoria</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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